Havana
by Lynxie Ears
Summary: The team takes a short vacation. Eliot spends his in Havana catching up with an old friend. Eliot/OC. Smutty. Now complete.
1. A Plane to Catch

**Title: **Havana

**Rating: **T this chapter. M overall for language and smut. Lots of Eliot smut.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **This is my first time publishing a fic so I'm nervous, but I hope you guys like it!

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**Chapter 1**

"This is going to be weird guys," Parker flopped down at the team's briefing table, shoulders hunched, arms pulled into her chest, frowning.

"Aww c'mon Parker it won't be _that_ bad," Hardison slid into the seat to her right, his arm around the back of her chair.

"It's only a month Parker. And it's not like we're completely splitting up and calling it quits," Sophie stepped down from the kitchen, gesturing as much as her full cup of tea would allow. "It's just a little vacation. A little time to recharge, is all," she sat to the thief's left and reassuringly rubbed a hand across her back. "Look, everyone is looking forward to _something_. I can't wait to go back to Venice. It's been years," the grifter propped her head in her hand, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. "And Nate, what are you looking forward to?" She took a sip of her tea, angling her big brown eyes towards the team's leader.

"Having you all out of my apartment," Nate said cheerily as he made his way down the spiral staircase from his bedroom above. Sophie immediately shot him one of those _you're not helping_ looks that she seemed to always have on hand for him.

"Um, I think you mean _my_ apartment. I do own this building, in case you all forgot," Hardison quipped. "Look Parker, it's not like we _have_ to split up, I mean, you could stay at my place for a while if you wanted. We'll get some of that cereal you like…the uh…Cinnamon Sugar Overload…"

"Cinnamon Toast Crunch," she corrected him, eyes brightening just a little.

"Yeah, some of that, and we'll play video games, get you set up on World of Warcraft. Girl, you ever wanted a penguin for a pet? Look no further. I can make that happen for you right here," by now Parker was beaming, although Hardison suspected it was more from the promise of sugary cereal than the video games.

"See, I told you this wasn't going to be so bad," Sophie smiled. "What about you Eliot? What are your plans?"

"Hmm?" Eliot growled, looking over his shoulder at the team from his spot by the window where he had been surveying traffic. "Actually, Hardison, can I talk to you about that?" He said, almost hesitantly, uncrossing his arms to seem a bit less menacing.

"Yeah sure man, what's up?" Hardison moved around the briefing table, meeting Eliot by the desk where he kept his laptop.

"I need to ask you for a f…" Eliot stopped himself before he said it.

"You need a what? Oh, a favor? A FA-VOR from Alec Hardison?"

"Hey, just, shh, shut up man, would you? It ain't like I actually _want_ to ask okay?" Eliot grimaced at the thought. Before he went on, the hitter glanced around at the other members of the team. Nate and Sophie were in the kitchen having some kind of deep conversation and Parker had turned on the television, thoroughly engrossed in some food show, most likely because cartoons weren't on at 8:00 at night. Satisfied that no one was paying them too much attention he turned back to Hardision, who had already popped open his laptop and was waiting for Eliot to continue. "I need you to find someone for me."

"Say please."

"Look man, I ain't gotta ta…"

"You want to find her don't you?" Hardison countered.

"How did you…" It wasn't worth arguing. "Okay, okay. Pl…please," the word tasted a bit sour to him.

"That's better. Now, what's her name?"

"No, finding her isn't going to be that simple. What's your security clearance again?"

"Level 3 NSA, FBI, and CIA, thank you very much," Hardison was obviously pleased.

"That's great but she doesn't work for any of those," Eliot paused just long enough for Hardison's ego to deflate a little. "But Level 3 CIA should get you there." Hardison wordlessly began hacking away into the CIA database.

"Name?" He prompted when he reached the appropriate screen.

"Audrey Goddard," Eliot whispered, almost afraid anyone else would hear. He didn't even know why it mattered so much. It wasn't even her real name.

"Damn, Eliot," Hardison felt his heart skip half a beat at the picture that flashed up on his screen. The woman in question stared back at them through big emerald green eyes that provided a stark contrast against her dark bronze skin. Thick dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders and one corner of her full mouth was turned up in the slightest smirk. She looked almost Indian, but something was off. Her features were different, a bit more exotic, and absolutely gorgeous. "Wherever this girl is I might just beat you there."

"She'd break you first and ask questions later," Eliot was secretly pleased that he could make Hardison jealous. "She's an assassin, Hardison. That's what she does."

"Well, you know I could probably sweet talk her a bit first and…"

"FOCUS," Eliot slapped the Hacker's shoulder to prove his point. "Plus, I happen to know that you ain't too good at talking when you're staring down the barrel of a gun."

"Oh, she's _that_ kind of girl. Hell, well I'm sure I could work something out."

"HARDISON."

"Alright alright. Pushy. Let's see," he scrolled down the page, eyeing her list of skills. "_Hand to hand combat, highly proficient with firearms and knives, perfect sniping record, authorized use of swift and deadly force_… Eliot this woman is James Bond. Except, hot. And a girl. And did I mention hot?"

Eliot was now hunched over to get a better view of the screen, and doing his best to hold in a grin. "Yeah, I know. But _where_ is she."

"Getting there," the hacker quickly sorted through past missions, looking for the latest entry into her dossier. "Here, Havana, Cuba. Took out her mark…" Hardison glanced at the date on his watch, "Today. She took him out today. Assuming she hasn't left already, she's in Cuba."

"Where's she staying," it was an urgent statement, not a question. He had no idea how Hardison would find that out, considering the care that she and the government would have put into securing her location. But he also knew that if anyone could find such information, it would be Hardison.

"Give me a second," the hacker was furiously clicking away at his computer keys. "I'm running all of her listed aliases through guest lists at Cuban hotels. Nothing man. This girl is careful."

"Yeah, well she's one of the best," Eliot eyed the multiple rosters currently open on the screen. Most of the names were men, allowing for immediate elimination of several hotels. He was scanning the list for The Parque Central when a name caught his eye. "There, Olivia Murdock. Pull that up."

Within seconds Hardison was in the hotel's database, pulling up the guest profile. "Olivia Murdock, checked in this afternoon to a Standard Room, number 219, paid for in cash, of course, used a Guyanese passport as a form of identification."

"That's her." Eliot smiled.

"Wait, how, did you know that?" Hardison felt a little defeated.

"When she drops off the grid like that the only way you can ever find her is to know the woman, not the agent. Murdock was her favorite character from The A-team. Olivia was the name of her first cat, who she rescued off the road after she'd been hit by a car. But of course, not many people know that. Which is how she likes it." Eliot stood upright. "I need a flight to Cuba."

"On it. I can get you onto a private plane that leaves," Hardison checked his watch again, "in an hour. 9:30pm. The next scheduled flight out from here isn't for a week. Get your ass to the private airport; the ticket will be ready at the counter. What IDs do you have on you, because you don't have time to get back to your apartment."

Eliot flipped open his wallet and sifted through a few plastic cards, searching for an identity that wouldn't raise eyebrows on a private plane. "Got it. Roy Chappell."

"Perfect. One round trip for an ex baseball player coming up."

"Thanks man," Eliot slapped Hardison on the back and made a move for the door.

"Hey, Eliot," Hardison gestured for him to lean in a bit. "Dude. You get laid, you owe me big time."

Eliot laughed. "If I get laid, you're gonna be the last person to know about it," he pushed his hair out of his eyes and set off for the door.

"Dude, BIG TIME!" Hardison called after him. With a quick goodbye to the rest of the team, Eliot was gone.

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**More to come very soon, hope y'all enjoy!**


	2. A Welcomed Intruder

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Rating: **T this chapter. M overall for language and smut. Lots of Eliot smut.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Smut soon. Promise ;-). Reviews are welcomed!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Summer heat in Havana is stifling. Burning 90 degrees during the day, with 90% humidity to match. And the worst part was the complete and utter lack of reprieve when the sun went down. Despite being put up in The Parque Central, one of the finest hotels in the port city, she still couldn't find any salvation from the heat. The air conditioning said it was on, but she wasn't so sure.

_That dog has the right idea,_ she thought of the black and tan Havanese puppy she had adopted off the street a week earlier. He preferred to sleep in the bathroom, spread out, nose-down on the cold tile floor. And at this point, she was seriously considering joining the little guy. But instead she lay stripped to the skin in a sheen of sweat, her feet tangled in the crisp white sheets. She was sprawled across the mattress, arms draped over the goose-down pillow, dark, damp hair pushed off of the back of her neck.

It was too hot to sleep, or do anything more than lose yourself in your own thoughts, really. She stared at the moonlight spilling in from the window and onto the horrid green carpet wondering what her next move would be. Her mission was over. The mark was dead. She wasn't needed back in the states for another week. Now the question was whether to stay or leave. If she stayed she would be bored out of her mind for lack of things to do. Havana's night life was legendary, but dancing well into the morning in more-than-shady cantinas would lose its charm after the first two nights. Sure, she could seduce a man easily enough, string him along for a week, and drop him faster than she had picked him up, but for some reason that was losing its appeal. Perhaps another time, when she was feeling sexier, and when her body wasn't paying the price for all of the right hooks she had blocked, strikes she had delivered, and that one killer kick that some lucky bastard had managed to land to her stomach. She winced even now at the memory and for some reason the dull ache had suddenly increased to a throbbing pain. But she smiled when she recalled the feel of the butt of her gun slamming into his left temple immediately after.

If she did stay, she could laze away her days in the sun, allowing the heat to soothe her muscles, and play in the waves with the little pup she had named Hannibal. And the fact that she was surrounded by amazing food didn't hurt either. She deserved it after the punishment she had taken. Perhaps that didn't sound so bad after all, she thought as she felt herself just begin to slip off into sleep.

She couldn't have been out longer than an hour when she woke to the sound of Hannibal's whimpering and claws on the tile of the bathroom. She could hear something cautiously jiggling the lock to her door. Instinctively her hand snaked under her pillow to grab her knife and she stole a glance at the clock. 2:17am. Loosely knotting her silk robe as she slipped out of bed, she grabbed a powder compact from the bag of makeup supplies that she had dumped on the writing desk hours earlier. She moved to the corner, back against the wall where the bathroom left off and the bedroom began, giving her a view of the door over her left shoulder.

"Hannibal," she whispered, "heel." It was one of the three commands she had managed to introduce to him in the short amount of time that they had been together, but he picked it up fast. The little dog came bolting out of the bathroom and hid behind her ankles, letting off a soft whimper. She pointed under the bed and calmly but firmly commanded "stay." The dog obeyed, and soon all she could see of him was the occasional metallic glint of his eyes in the moonlight.

Her attention turned to the door. She popped open the compact and quickly angled it around the corner giving her a view of the door as she tightened her hand around the ceramic knife. The lock clicked and the door opened slowly, the force behind it acting with obvious caution. It was too dark to make out any features aside from the figure's basic outline. It was a man, about 5'10", muscular build, in a dark t-shirt, jeans, and heavy boots, with a knit cap on his head. But he moved like someone who had done this before. Someone familiar to a fight. It took her a fraction of a second to make her assessment and she tossed the compact into the comforter on the floor without snapping it closed, so as not to alert the intruder with the click of the plastic catch. The figure shut the door behind him, cutting off all light from the hallway as he moved further into the room. He slowly moved around the corner where she was standing until he was a few feet in front of her, and as he did, she noticed something strange about his demeanor. He was calm, not tense as though he was looking for a fight. His hands were relaxed, not balled into fists. His breathing was steady, normal. And then it hit her. The way he smelled.

She knew that smell. It had been over a year, but it was unmistakable. It wasn't the product of an expensive cologne or aftershave. It was the earthy, musky smell of a man, tinged with the rich, slightly floral scent of hair conditioner. That particular smell only belonged to one person.


	3. Heat

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Rating: **M

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Eliot?" She whimpered into the darkness.

The man turned, "Natalia," his face spread into a warm smile as she dropped her knife and crashed into his waiting arms. He tightened his grip around her and she buried her face into his neck. It was the embrace of two old friends. Two people who needed each other's touch right at that moment.

"What are you doing here?" She loosened her grip around his neck enough to be face to face with him. The words formed a question but her mind wasn't about to protest his presence.

"A little bird told me that you'd be here," his hands moved from her lower back to trace a path down the silky material over her arms.

"Hardison."

"Mmhmm," she could feel his chest rumble as he growled in confirmation.

"But that would mean that you were looking for me. Even Hardison can't find the name I used to book this room," she asserted slowly, watching his features for any reaction.

"Wa…was I not supposed to?" His eyes took on the look of a little boy who may have just done something wrong.

She smiled, "no, it's just a surprise, is all." She secretly delighted in the fact that she was being pursued by a man. She didn't subscribe to many feminine wiles, but this one was a bit too base to shake. She ran her hands over his chest. "I've missed you."

"God, I've missed you too," he tightened his grip around her once again. Eliot rested his forehead against Natalia's, their noses touching, simply enjoying the feel of being this close to another person. It helped that said person also happened to be a beautiful woman. His job was high stress, high energy, and required him to constantly watch the backs of his four teammates as well as his own. But with Natalia, he knew he could let that all go. That, for once, she would have his back. That's why he loved being with her so much. He could be himself without pretense or expectation. That's why he put the effort into finding her during the month that the team took for vacation. Or at least, made Hardison put in the effort. Which required just as much gall as doing it himself. Eliot wasn't one to ask for favors. Least of all from Alec Hardison.

He moved his hand to cup her cheek and tip her face up to meet his. Her arms wrapped around his neck and with one hand pulled off his knit cap and tossed it onto the floor somewhere. She could finally run her fingers through that long, silky, brown hair. He growled seductively at the sensation which caused her to laugh softly. Eliot's eyes traced the strong contours of her face, highlighted in silver light. She still looked as beautiful as he remembered. Big loose waves framed her cheekbones, glowing with a natural shine from the heat. Her green eyes were locked on his blue ones, never faltering. And then there were those lips. He had always joked that she was as close as he would ever get to kissing Angelina Jolie. She used to advise him to take full advantage of it; she loved the way he kissed. His gaze must have lingered a bit too long, because she had ceased her ministrations on his hair, and was now staring at his mouth.

Their moment was shattered by something bumping into his boot, and tugging on the leg of his jeans. Natalia looked down and laughed as she knelt to pick up the little pup, who had finally gotten up the courage to confront the intruder.

"Eliot Spencer, meet my little Hannibal," she cradled the dog in her arms and Eliot grinned and ran his fingers through his scraggly fur. He had always been good with animals. Hannibal began licking Eliot's hand, his tail wagging furiously, causing him to wiggle in Natalia's arms. "I think he likes you," she laughed. "See?" This directed at the dog. "He's not so bad," she nuzzled the puppy's nose.

"Ain't he a feisty little guy. Where'd you pick this one up?"

"The street. He was hungry and his fur was all matted, and he had these big puppy dog eyes," her voice took on a baby-ish tone.

"You would pick up a stray off the streets of Cuba," Eliot smirked. She was a strange contradiction; a female assassin with a soft spot for animals. Fish, cats, dogs, big critters, small critters. If it needed her help, she did the best she could, which was better than anyone else he'd ever seen. To Natalia, a life was a life, big or small, and no one was worth more than another. It was a philosophy that didn't necessarily carry over to people, but that was a different situation entirely. One that he could relate to.

"I'm going to go make sure he gets back to sleep," she smiled. "Turn a light on, make yourself comfortable. There's water in the fridge, and the remote's on the table," her voice faded slightly as she padded down the hallway and into the bathroom. "Do you want to take a shower?" She called over her shoulder.

"It can wait until mornin'," Eliot flipped on a light, perched on the edge of the bed and began to unlace his shoes. He stopped to pick her knife up off the floor, sliding it back under her pillow. There were certain things he could count on with her, and that was one of them.

He went back to unlacing his shoes and noticed that now the heat had started getting to him. He pulled off his boots and socks, neatly placing them against this side of the bathroom wall. His shirt came next, which he meticulously folded and placed on the dresser, followed by his belt and jeans. He adjusted the waistband of his dark blue boxer briefs and looked up when he felt the weight of Natalia's gaze. "Jeans aren't the best choice for Cuba in July, huh?"

"No, I can't say that they are," she smiled and leaned her right shoulder against the wall, stealing a glance at his muscled fighter's body. There were one or two more scars than she remembered, but the sight of him still caused her to ache. She cleared her throat, "no bags?"

"It was kinda last minute. There are only so many private flights from Boston to Havana," he shrugged. "I hope it's ok," he cracked a smile and sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair.

"I think it'll be just fine. Especially considering what I've taken to wearing to bed in this heat," she swept past him to her side of the bed as he flipped off the light. When he snuck a glance at her, he just caught the image of her black silk robe slipping off of her shoulders and being tossed onto the back of a chair. It was at that point that he lost polite control of his arousal.

"Well now, that just ain't fair," he narrowed his eyes a bit as she smirked at him over her shoulder, a lock of hair falling just so in front of her face. _Damn, girl. _He felt himself harden even more at the sight.

"Go ahead, nothing's stopping you," she read his thoughts as she sat down on the bed, back facing him, and proceeded to briefly check her phone for any new messages. Eliot stared brazenly as he pulled off his boxer briefs and tossed them onto the comforter that she had piled on the floor earlier. He sat down and stalked his way across the bed until he was within a foot of her, leaning back on his haunches. "Hey," he rumbled. Natalia laid the phone down before locking eyes with him.

Eliot's hand flew to her jaw and pulled her into a hard kiss. He sucked and bit her bottom lip causing her to moan and bury her hands in his hair, his stubble scratching her chin. He shifted his position until he was sitting back against the headboard of the bed, pulling the agent onto his lap, never breaking their kiss. Soon her tongue was in his mouth, playing against his own, tasting as much of him as she could. _God, how she missed the way he tasted._ He ran his hands across her back and down to grip her hips, pressing her closer to him as he slowly, torturously, ground himself against her.

"You're so wet," he growled between kisses, fighting the urge to pound into her right there. But he knew how she operated; foreplay was what she really delighted in. That was the main course. Sex was just dessert. Really fucking good dessert.

"I have been since you walked through that door," she whispered huskily as she moved to kiss his neck. She trailed her tongue over his carotid artery and bit down just behind it, prompting him to grunt and tighten his grip on her hips. She laved the spot soothingly before slowly working her way up to his ear. Natalia traced its outline with the tip of her nose before sucking on his earlobe, her tongue playing with the captive ball on his hoop earring.

_God, it felt so good. _His ears were a well kept secret. She had discovered, long ago, that they were surprisingly sensitive, and she wasn't going to let that go. His hips involuntarily bucked up to hers, causing his cock to rub hard against her clit.

"Mmmfff," she let out as she buried her face in his sweaty shoulder. He laughed softly and moved a hand up to clutch her hair, gently pulling back to expose her throat and chest. He supported her with his left arm and gripped her hair with his right as he nipped and sucked his way down her neck and across her clavicle to capture her nipple between his teeth. "Oh God,Eliot," her voice a husky whimper. Her fingers were buried in his damp hair, pulling and tugging, wanting more than just this.

She managed to pull one hand away, trailing it down the hitter's humid skin, feeling his muscles strain against its confines. Bicep, chest, stomach,_ oh that stomach. _Rock hard muscle padded by the only bit of fat he carried. He was all man, and that man appreciated good food. She found it sexy that he took care of himself, and didn't care about getting rid of those extra five pounds around his midsection. Her fingers found that trail of hair starting at his belly button and ending exactly where she wanted to go.

Natalia wrapped her hand around his aching dick, expertly touching, twisting, and gently tugging, working his cock almost better than he could. Although, the fact that it wasn't _his_ hand down there actually did make it even better. Eliot released her breast and tipped his head back until it hit the headboard, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair.

"I take it that feels good," it was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah," he groaned, his voice even rougher than normal. She always joked how he naturally spoke like Christian Bale's version of Batman, gruff and gravelly, and so absolutely sexy. And in the midst of primal expression of energy, be it a fight, or a good fuck, Eliot's voice never failed to get deeper, coarser, and 500 times sexier, if that was possible. "Unnghh," again, he slammed his head against the headboard. He was getting frustrated. Foreplay was good, especially with her, but they hadn't seen each other in a year, he hadn't had sex in three months, and when the most exotic woman you've ever met was writhing in your lap, completely naked and soaking wet, it was hard to stick to semi-dry humping and hand jobs. He made a move to toss her onto her back and pin her to the bed, but her ever present fighter's instinct anticipated him and she shoved Eliot back into the headboard, propping herself up on her knees. He dug the fingers of one hand into the back of her thigh and growled, while the other moved to take her former place pampering his dick. Her nails gripped his shoulders and she moved to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck me Eliot Spencer."

Those were the words he was waiting for.

He rubbed the tip of his cock against her, teasing her. She yanked his hair and he complied, sinking inside her inch by torturous inch, finally able to feel her wet heat clench around him. For a moment no one moved, their heavy breathing cutting through the darkness. Eliot was well endowed and uncut, and Natalia buried her face into his shoulder as her body adjusted to his girth. She felt so tight, so hot against his sensitive skin, so _fucking_ _good_. Eliot pulled out and thrust into her again, turning his face towards hers, waiting for a response. She angled her eyes at his, and for a second he thought something was wrong. Perhaps he had hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted. But when she cracked that devilish smile, he matched it, and let loose.

Eliot pounded into her, his thrusts short, hard, and so fucking perfect. He gripped her ass hard enough to bruise, and something primal deep down inside hoped that she would. Of course, throwing that seductive strut off tomorrow would be a nice bonus too. He wanted to mark his territory, and the thought of it alone made him pump his hips faster, forcing her body to accept more and more of him. Conversely, it also made him feel like a bit of an asshole. He didn't want to hurt her. But the hitter remembered that she was an assassin after all. And she had always gotten off on hair pulling, biting, and clawing. A little bit of soreness wasn't so bad.

She soon found his rhythm, bucking against him, meeting his every move, reveling in the feeling of being penetrated. Finally being fucked. Eliot was an expert at satisfying her, hammering away at just the right angle, punctuating his furious pace with slower, harder thrusts that ground his pubic bone against her clit, offering the perfect stimulation. His mouth found hers and she bit his bottom lip before her tongue collided with his. She wasn't going to last much longer, and judging from how shallow his breathing had become, neither would he.

"Eliot?" she hissed.

"Yeah?" he ground out as best he could as he thrust up to meet her as she rode him.

"_Giddy up_."

The whisper barely left her lips when he threw her backwards onto the bed, knelt in front of her and slammed back into the assassin with all the force his muscles would allow. She lifted her legs between them, crossed at the ankles, and planted her feet against his chest as he pulled her ass up onto his lap. She pushed against him, countering his force as he leaned into her, making him work even harder with each thrust, which he found ridiculously sexy.

His view wasn't half bad either. Her dark bronze skin was slicked with sweat, all of its contours highlighted by the moon. Her full breasts bounced with every thrust and her face was a perfect picture of ecstasy. The assassin's dark hair spilled across the white sheets, back arched, pressing her head against the mattress. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her bee-stung lips were moist and parted, chest heaving with every breath. It was then that he noticed he may have some bruises of his own come morning. Her fingers dug into his strong thighs pulling him closer to her. She wanted him, deeper, harder, and faster. The thought made him close his eyes, and his breathing became sharper. He couldn't last much longer. She felt too fucking good.

Natalia stole a glance at the hitter and moaned at what she saw. Eliot's shoulder length hair was dripping wet, the moisture causing it to revert back to its naturally curly state. Stray strands were plastered to his neck and forehead, and his skin was covered in trails of sweat. He was biting his bottom lip, nostrils flaring from the exertion. In the dim light she could make out his tense chest pressing against her black polished toes, and the muscles in his arms, which were more pronounced from pulling her hips into his. Eliot opened his eyes and met her gaze, cracking a smirk through unruly tresses. Natalia arched an eyebrow seductively in response.

"Close," it was both a statement and a question that fell from her moist lips. He untangled her legs from between them, leaning to support his weight with his arms, and invaded her mouth with his tongue.

"Natalia," he growled against her, "you still a screamer?" His thrusting momentarily slowed to a grind.

"Shut the fuck up and find out," she buried her hands in his damp hair as Eliot slammed into her. The assassin's hips bucked up to meet his, but he held her down with a strong, calloused hand to her stomach. She had to suppress the reflex to ram her elbow into his jaw. He had unknowingly mashed his hand down precisely where she had been kicked. She grunted instead and pulled his hand off of her, bringing it to her mouth, sucking on his fingers to hide the fact that he was hurting her. If he so much as suspected it, everything would stop. And right now, that was the last thing she needed.

It was at that point that sex became a desperate fight for pleasure. The hitter hammered into her, balls slapping against her skin, cock buried to the hilt. Natalia let his hand go and arched her back, breasts inches from his mouth. He nipped her taught skin and she cried out, throwing her head back, exposing her neck for him to bite. It was just the distraction she needed. She shoved Eliot off of her, sending him crashing back against the headboard and within a fraction of a second she was in his face, he was back inside her, their mouths mashed together and hips furiously pumping out of pure greed. The move alone was about to send Eliot over the edge. He loved that this woman could fight back. That she wasn't afraid. That she wanted to dominate him as much as he wanted to rule her. He tightened his arms around her waist and let out a deep growl from the back of his throat. She fisted his hair and clawed at his back introducing her own brand of pleasure through pain. Eliot would literally only last a few more seconds. He immediately snaked a hand between them, his ring and middle fingers finding her clit. She moaned and raked her fingernails across his chest, as he bit and sucked on her neck. The hitter pounded into the assassin, one, two, more times before his hand pressed down hard against her.

"_Ohhh_...FUCK…_**ELIOT**_…" she screamed, throwing her head back and arching her spine, breath hitched in her throat. She rocked into his hand, using his fingers to milk every last shudder from her orgasm. The sight of her, the feel of her body go rigid in his arms, her walls clenching down rhythmically around him all made him drive his cock into her one last time, plunging in to the hilt.

"_NATALIA_…" Eliot coarsely ground out, pressing his head back against the headboard, mouth falling open, letting out a harsh, deep, rumbling growl as his hips spasmed, forcing her to accept every burning ounce of him.

For a good thirty seconds they sat, chests heaving, until Natalia tenderly trailed the fingers of her right hand across his collarbone and up behind his sweat soaked neck, tipping his face to within inches of hers. His hot breath ruffled stray strands of her damp hair, and she ran her fingers through his sodden locks, taking in the sight of his now tranquil face. He leaned in to capture her bottom lip, languidly sucking on her mouth in wet, lip-y kisses. He released her and let out soft laugh, prompting a lazy smile to spread across her face. Eliot wrapped his arms around her waist, and hers clung to his neck, each enjoying their hormone-induced haze a bit too much.

"Mmmm, alright, I'm going to have to get off of you now, because it's way too hot," Natalia undraped her arms, voice still low and husky.

"_It's_ way too hot, or _I'm_ way too hot?" Eliot quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't push it," she beamed, gently climbing off of his lap, rolling to his right, and sinking down into the soft mattress. He scooted down until he was level with her, propped up on his right elbow, facing her. She looked up into his big blue-grey eyes, seeing a peace that hadn't been there before. She smiled and rolled over to her right, snuggling back into him. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she turned just slightly, their lips meeting instead.

"Goodnight, darlin'," Eliot whispered against her mouth.

"Night, babe," she answered, lacing one of her long legs through both of his.

Eliot couldn't sleep right away, be it from the adrenaline, the heat, or just because he was _him_. He instead opted to lightly trace the contours of her body, fingers running over her arm, hip, thigh, butt, and up across her back and shoulders. His touch was soothing, and Natalia quickly drifted off, finally feeling tranquil, calm. Finally feeling safe. Eliot fell asleep soon after, with the same emotions washing over him, soothing his entire being.


	4. Two Minutes and a Switchblade

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **This chapter dives into a bit of history with its own little take on some of Eliot's training. And remember…reviews help inspire more sexy Eliot…

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Naturally, he woke first, the morning light streaming through the window, his body unable to shake his 90 minute routine, despite being on vacation. At first, he tensed, eyes coming to focus on unfamiliarly painted walls before remembering where he was. Havana. And Natalia. He vividly recalled the hours before; the softness of her hair, his fingers slipping on her slick skin, how wet and tight she was around him. At that he unconsciously let out a low, satisfied growl, but quickly caught himself. She was still asleep, and he would be wracked with guilt if he woke her. He pondered that for a moment. Anyone else and it wouldn't have mattered. Nate, Sophie, Parker. He would have done it nicely, of course. Gently bringing each of them out of their peaceful slumber. Hardison, well that was another story. A pillow to the face, a rough jostle of a shoulder. Hell, maybe even dropping something on him would do the job with an appropriate amount of satisfaction.

But Natalia. No. He had never been able to bring himself to wake her. She was too at peace, an emotion that rarely crossed her state of being. She was an assassin after all, and serenity was something anyone in that line of work sought tirelessly to find. That he understood. But when she slept, for that brief span of time, she had it. And he'd be damned if he was going to rob her of that.

Eliot gently rolled to his right, pushing a wavy lock of hair out of his face, and was pleased to see exactly what he had expected. Natalia was facing him, still asleep. She had her arms pulled in tight to her chest, left hand under the pillow, right curled up under her chin. He traced her features with his eyes, since he didn't dare touch. She was beautiful, no doubt, but it saddened him to see that that beauty was marred with souvenirs of a successful career. Her right forearm was grazed, relatively fresh, most likely from scraping it across concrete or brick in an effort to brace herself against some kind of impact, he mused. His gaze drifted further down, and he flinched at the bruise on her stomach. It was four days old at least and big enough for him to know that it was the product of a very lucky kick. _Damn_, he thought. See, that was part of what made Natalia so great; she was so rarely tagged. But he also knew that whoever had done it wouldn't have gotten to enjoy their victory for very long. Eliot made a mental note not to touch her stomach, and frowned a bit when he remembered that he had held her down in that exact spot last night. He was suddenly very disappointed with himself. But he couldn't have known that, could he? He was shaken from his thoughts, and guilt, by her long fingers trailing their way down his bicep.

"Hey stranger," she whispered, cupping his face with her hand.

"Mornin," Eliot's voice was a husky drawl. He smiled, pressing his cheek into her palm. He propped himself up on one arm and kissed her, stubble lightly scratching her skin. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear.

She pushed back from him just enough to be able to look in his eyes, surprised to see a genuine blue-grey shade of concern. "Sorry for what?" She half smiled at the ridiculousness of his admission.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," his eyes flicked down to her stomach and back up to meet her gaze.

"Eliot…" she chided. Just to prove her point, she rolled over and straddled him, pressing her chest against his. "Don't you dare be sorry for touching me like that," she whispered against his mouth. It was enough to clear the hitter's conscience.

"Ya mean like this?" He traced his calloused fingers down her ribs, across her lower back and cupped her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her moan.

"Mm yes. Like that," she laughed. "We'll have to get you some clothes today," her mind immediately kicked into gear, prompting a laugh from him. She thought just like he did; always focused on a task, even when she didn't have to be. "And Hannibal needs breakfast," she rolled off of him and the bed in one graceful sweep, moving around the room to grab her robe and a small can of dog food from her backpack.

"Hannibal huh?" The little dog came running into the room at the sound of the can being opened and food being dished out onto a small saucer. "Someone's been on a bit of an A-Team kick lately," he got out of bed, slipping his boxer briefs on.

"It's just about the only thing on TV here," Natalia was now seated on the ground, petting the dog as he ate. Eliot knew that she didn't actually _watch_ TV. For her it was white noise. Something to fill the space as she meticulously cleaned her guns, sharpened knives, and planned her next move. He had watched her do it so often, way back when. He remembered her piercing concentration as her long fingers moved deftly across pieces of cold metal, deconstructing, examining, and reassembling. And yet she still managed to retain exactly what had happened on the show that night. Eliot smiled and shook his head at the memory before excusing himself to the shower.

He turned the knobs on the tile wall, adjusting the temperature until he found a suitable combination of hot and cold. He tipped his head into the spray, running his fingers through his hair as the water pounded over the muscles of his back. It was then that he allowed himself to think about the past.

* * *

They had met years ago. Before he was a retrieval specialist. Before she was a government assassin. It was a training ground far more specialized and intensive than ordinary military instruction; one of those places where Uncle Sam shipped people whose existence he denied, but whose lives he depended upon. Eliot wasn't there long, but it was where he became who he was. Natalia was one of only four women in a group of 120 and he had the good fortune of being in the same fencing class. Well, fencing was what they called it, but it was more like Slice the Shit Out of People 301. It was less formal, less safe, and unimaginably more real. Eliot laughed when he was put up against her, unable to shake his high school quarterback mentality, but in less than two minutes she had decimated him. She easily disarmed him of his saber, but not before cutting through the fabric of his vest down to the stainless steel reinforcement, scratching the mesh covering his face, and leaving a switchblade imbedded in the padding that protected his kidneys. It was at that moment that she rid him of any trace of chauvinism he had left, and secured his admiration for the rest of his life.

Natalia graduated 3rd in their class, Eliot graduated 4th. He covered covert snatch and grabs of chief officials for the US Government, she destroyed corrupt agencies from the inside. He used his skills on side jobs for people who payed well, she escaped to foreign countries to snipe poachers. He found Aimee, she, well, he actually wasn't sure who she moved on to. When Aimee broke his heart, he liberated Croatia. By that time she had toppled a dictatorship with one bullet, and helped stop a genocide. And now they were here. He had the team and she was still with the government. But when the world offered them a reprieve, when they needed to recharge, they found each other.

* * *

And as if on command, the little she-devil herself had just walked into the bathroom.

* * *

**Oh yes. It's going there...**


	5. Steam

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to those who reviewed! Hope you guys are enjoying the story!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

He could barely see through the textured glass of the shower door, but he could tell that she was washing something. The dog's saucer, he figured. Eliot quickly scanned the shower, looking for an excuse to get her close enough to pull in with him. He sifted through the tiny bottles of product on the shower shelf.

_Shampoo, bar soap_, yeah he had used those already. _Shower gel?_ No, he wasn't gonna use that anyway. _Oh, what about…FUCK._ There were TWO bottles of conditioner. _Damn. Time for a lame excuse._

"Hey, Nat?"

"Hmm?" she replied over the running faucet.

"There's this spot on my back that I can't reach."

At that, the sound of the tap stopped.

She yanked open the glass door, one hand on the handle, the other braced on the wall. A blast of cold air rushed over his skin, providing a sharp contrast against the hot water pelting his back.

"Is that really the best that you could come up with?" The steam from the shower billowed around her form.

"You have TWO bottles of conditioner in here!' Eliot's eyes widened for effect. She just laughed.

"Would you like to pull me in, or should I get in myself?" Natalia knew that a bad excuse had taken half of the fun out of it, but she was willing to play his little game.

"Pull," he sheepishly raked a hand through his hair.

"Robe on or off?"

"Wouldn't that ruin…" he gestured towards her robe, water dripping off of his fingers.

"Not real silk."

"On then."

"Starting over?"

"Yeah."

Natalia shut the shower door and walked back to the sink, smirking and shaking her head.

"Hey Nat? You're out of conditioner," he fought to hide a grin.

"Oh really?" She padded over to the shower and opened the glass door. "I thought…"

In a flash he snatched the collar of her robe and slammed her up against the back wall of the shower, standing between her and the spray as their lips mashed together. Natalia's instincts prevented her from hitting her head, but she had no need to be cautious, Eliot had protectively placed his hand between her and the wall. She arched into him, reflexively reacting to the cold tile stinging her skin through the fine material of her robe. But Eliot wanted her to know that he was in control. He used his body to press her back against the wall, causing her to cry out against his mouth.

He trailed a hand down across her neck to cup her left breast through silk that was growing wetter by the second. The hitter ran his thumb over a hardened nipple and her fingers flew to his wet locks, amused to find that he had already put conditioner in his hair. Steam curled around them as Eliot's hands slid down her sides and slipped behind to hold her lower back. She ran raked her nails across his muscled shoulders and down his forearms. In one swift motion he flipped her hands off of him and grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. At that, her lips left his, head pressing back against the unforgiving tile as he ground his arousal up against her, a thin film of faux silk preventing torturously heated skin from making contact.

"Ffffuuckk," Eliot savored every letter as the curse dripped from the assassin's lips. Dripped like the drops of water that sat as a smattering of dew in her dark hair, and ran trails down the tendons of her neck before plunging between her breasts.

"See what you do to me?" He growled in her ear before running his tongue down her earlobe. Natalia felt control beginning to slip away.

She broke free of his grasp and shoved Eliot off and into the downpour, where her lips crashed into his in a desperate kiss. The water became another player in their passion, running over their mouths as tongues collided, trickling between frenzied bodies, saturating hair, skin, and artificial silk. Artificial silk that Eliot decided had served its purpose. He moved his hands from her jaw to peel the material off of her soaked skin, not willing to pry his lips from hers. The robe came free in his hands and he tossed it into a sopping heap in the corner of the shower. Finally able to fully feel his skin, Natalia threw her arms around his neck, and the hitter grabbed her ass, hoisting her up to where she could wrap her legs around his waist, backing her into the wall. His dick was aching by now. No more playing around.

"Down," he rumbled and promptly she released him, standing on her own two feet. He pulled away from Natalia's lips and looked straight into her eyes. She read him and with a smirk, gave up her control. Eliot growled in satisfaction and immediately he flipped her around and shoved her into the tile, the assassin's forearms bracing her against the impact. The hitter used his knee to nudge her legs farther apart and ran his calloused hands over the skin of her back, taking in the contours of muscle earned through years of punishing work. Eliot's thumbs firmly raked down both sides of her spine, perfectly fitting into the two dimples in the small of her back just above her butt. She moaned at his forceful yet soothing touch and Eliot couldn't help but smile. He planted kisses over her shoulders as he gathered her wet hair in his left fist and traced the tattoo at the base of her neck. An "M" with a devil's tail, a warning to the world that it was dealing with a Scorpio. He was a Cancer himself and remembered reading somewhere that their signs were good for each other, but at this point it didn't matter. He had her up against a wall. Right where he wanted her.

Eliot's left hand remained in her hair and his right gripped his cock, tracing the tip over her wet skin. He moved across her lower back, down the curve of her ass and finally between her legs, rubbing against her wetness. It was the only part of him she had direct contact with and she was aching to feel more.

"Eliot," she breathed, pushing back until her butt hit his lower abs. He grunted and pushed her back into the wall, covering her body with his, the heat from his skin satisfying her need to be touched. She felt his hot breath on her wet neck and he pulled her head back by her hair, enough for him to nip her throat and kiss her jaw.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear, still grinding his cock against her.

"Put your fucking dick in me Eliot, before I do it myself."

He let out a low, rumbling, laugh, pushed all of his length into her and immediately began thrusting; forsaking any time her body may have needed to adjust. But she was right there with him, meeting his every move. The hitter's hands slid down to her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he used the leverage to plunge deeper into her. Natalia's fingers clawed at the tile, desperate for some kind of give as she used the strength in her arms to push back into him. He took in the sight of her muscles in her back and shoulders working to find pleasure. One hand left her hip to caress her skin, hot and slick under his fingers. Eliot grabbed her hair and she moaned as his thrusting grew more desperate, frenzied, and urgent, and he felt her abs tighten in response. She was close.

Eliot forced himself to pull away from her and he stumbled backwards into the spray. Natalia cursed at the loss of contact before Eliot grabbed her hip and flipped her around to face him, shoving her back into the wall. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were locked in his, burning with a combination of lust and anger. She didn't take kindly to his denial of her pleasure. Eliot flashed a smirk and pushed his saturated hair out of his eyes before crushing his lips to hers and slipping back into her tight heat.

"I want to see your face when you come," Eliot ground out, his voice a deep Southern rasp.

"Oh God Eliot…" her fingers were buried in his hair, pulling to a point bordering pain. She braced her right leg up against the opposite wall and Eliot grabbed her thigh, fingers digging into her skin as he snuck a look at her face. Natalia was biting her bottom lip, eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed. The assassin felt his gaze and opened her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered. Sweat mingled with water over Eliot's flushed skin, his lips parted, chest heaving with every breath. "Harder Eliot," she provoked.

Immediately he grabbed her ass, pulling her onto him, thrusting deeper than before. Her clit ground against his pubic bone as he pounded into her. Natalia's hands shot out to steady herself, her right against the glass just behind the door, her left colliding with bottles of product on the shelf before finding cold tile.

Eliot was on the edge of his release but wouldn't allow himself to come just yet. He was a gentleman. Ladies came first. He pushed fully into her and Natalia ground herself against him in hard, slow circles that felt amazing from inside her. Eliot slowly, barely rocked his hips against her and whispered in her ear.

"Come for me Natalia."

The hand on the glass wrapped around his neck, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. "Faster Eliot," she cried out huskily. He slammed into her tight, wet core with all of the strength in his thighs, her moans growing louder by the second. The assassin's left hand found his back, clawing red trails across his skin. Eliot could feel her inner walls start to clench around him as she began to scream in back-arching, heart-pounding pleasure. Her rhythmic contractions around his dick sent him over the edge and Eliot slammed the side of his fist into the tile above her head, letting out a coarse roar as he spilled himself inside her.

"Fuck Eliot," she whispered, running her fingers through his soaked hair, his expression just beginning to recover from his orgasm. Natalia kissed his neck and jaw until he turned to her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, running it along the inside of her teeth. When their lips parted, she smiled and he slid out of her. The assassin let her right leg down, Eliot still holding her in his arms.

"Hey Eliot?"

"Yeah?" he rumbled.

"Get your ass out so I can take a shower," she smiled and he laughed. With one last quick rinse he left her to her shower.


	6. A Tattered Note and a Promise Kept

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Natalia stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel before returning to the bedroom for her clothes. She found Eliot in his boxer briefs, hair pulled back in a low ponytail, playing fetch with Hannibal who dropped the ball immediately and ran to her, begging to be picked up. She reached down to pet his head and moved to collect her clothes and a bag of toiletries from her black duffel. Eliot sat on the edge of the bed, content for now with watching her move as she selected a few cosmetics from the pile on the writing desk.

"Do you want to do anything with your hair?" She looked over at him.

"Ya have a blow dryer?" Eliot subconsciously ran a hand over his hair in an attempt to smooth any unruly pieces. Natalia gestured for him to follow her into the bathroom.

She dumped the contents of her arms on the counter and Eliot saw that there was indeed a blow dryer mounted on the wall to the right of the sink. Before he could reach for it she was behind him and ran a hand up over his shoulders before gently pulling the hair tie from his damp brown locks, tousling them a bit. She unzipped her bag and pulled out a small bottle and a round hairbrush.

"What's that?" He asked as she squeezed some of the contents out into her hand. Whatever it was, it smelled good.

"Shine serum," she calmly replied as she proceeded to apply the product to his hair, starting with the ends and working her way up to the roots. "You have hair like me and curly hair frizzes in this humidity. This will help."

By now she had started to massage his scalp with the pads of her fingers and just the right amount of fingernail. Eliot never understood just why that felt so good. He never liked it when Sophie kept asking to braid his hair, or when Parker tried to play with it. But then again Sophie and Parker never did this. He was shaken from his thoughts by her soft laughter. It was then that he realized he had been growling lowly in satisfaction.

"You sound like you're purring," Natalia smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was just tall enough to rest her chin in the curve where his neck met his shoulder. "I love your hair," she whispered as she nuzzled his skin.

It was a moment of affection that neither often experienced. Eliot never really stuck around long enough to feel emotionally connected to someone, and even if he did, he wasn't the one being held like this. And honestly, it was kinda nice. For a split second his mind ran away from him.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be married.

What would it be like to wake up next to her forever? To get to see that fleeting serenity bathe her features every morning. He wanted to know what it was like to share a bathroom like this, her side of the sink covered with bottles of perfume, lotions and makeup, his with his toothbrush and toothpaste. And maybe a razor if he felt like shaving that day. He would have someone to put nice things in his hair that he never would have known about, let alone put there himself for fear of Hardison calling him girly. Eliot wanted to know what it was like to finally have someone who really appreciated him and showed it with more than just a slap on the back. And what's more, he found himself wanting that from her.

He looked up from the counter where he had been staring and found her eyes in the mirror. The assassin's gaze darted away and he could have sworn that Natalia had been thinking the exact same thing. She released her hold on him and reached to give him the round brush.

"Have at it," she broke the silence, her voice tinged with the slightest, barely perceptible sadness. The hitter kissed her on the cheek, hoping it would provide the right amount of whatever it was she needed just then, and a soft smile assured him that she was okay. She collected her clothes and lotion moved back from the counter to dress.

Eliot had seen plenty of people use a round brush: model girlfriends, hairdressers, Sophie. But he had never actually used one himself. He supposed now was as good a time as any to try.

As he worked he caught glimpses of her in the mirror through his peripheral vision. He didn't understand how someone could look so elegant while applying lotion and getting dressed. He thought that only existed in commercials with actors who tried too hard. But Natalia was a _real_ person. Someone who wasn't trying at all…and had just put on a black lace thong. But he would deal with that later.

When she finished the ritual she stepped into the shower to retrieve her robe, which she rung out and hung over the shower door to dry before returning to the counter beside him. She began to apply her makeup, causing Eliot to pay more attention to her than to his hair. She expertly swept on a bit of black eyeliner and mascara, a process that still fascinated him; she made it look so easy. And so good. He had done it himself once or twice, nearly took an eye out, and was called Steven Seagal by Hardison. _Stephen Seagal_…he snorted at the thought even now. _I could take him out with my hands tied behind my back….__**while**__ wearing eyeliner…_he mused, more than a little bitter at the recollection. His attention turned back to her as she dusted on a bit of blush and translucent powder. She looked beautiful, even while fussing with her off-the-shoulder black shirt and khaki shorts. Natalia fished a necklace out of her bag; three bean shaped beads painted a frosted gold and threaded onto a black silk cord. Eliot shut the blow dryer off and faced her; he knew that necklace, somehow.

"Graduation," she stated simply and looked over at him. _How in the hell does she do that…_? It was like she could read his mind.

"Ah, that's it," he took the beads between his fingers, running his thumb over the lacquered wood. "Tiffany's," he recalled, wondering how he could even have forgotten. It had been over ten years but that was no excuse.

Natalia had worn the necklace to their graduation ceremony, the day before they were all to be shipped off to carry out their training in nefarious corners of the globe. Neither had said anything about it, but they each knew full-well that they may never see each other again. That night was perhaps the closest that their under-the-radar fuckery ever came to making love, before or since.

That was the night that they took their time, exploring every inch of each other's then unscarred bodies. They were inches each had seen before, but never quite like this. There's a certain lens that comes with the thought of never seeing a lover again, that when one looks through, can change even the most familiar into something unexplored. That night they had touched each other in unhurried desire, took the time to kiss and breathe in each other's smell one last time. Eliot had fallen asleep with Natalia wrapped in his arms wearing nothing but that necklace, her skin pressed flush against his. But he woke to a frigid emptiness. She stole away in the night, just like she was trained to do, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his pillow and a note on the dresser.

That became one of the reasons that he didn't allow himself to sleep more than 90 minutes a night. He figured a woman wouldn't fall asleep, wake up, and run away from him in that span of time. _They usually couldn't recover that fast anyway_, he smirked.

He supposed Natalia's gesture suited them though. A 'goodbye' and a hug wouldn't have felt right that morning. They were each built to run; headstrong into conflict, one job to another, swiftly away from themselves. Eliot still carried Natalia's note in his wallet. It was tattered and yellowed and the ink had faded, but it didn't matter, he knew the words by heart.

_Get the job done. Look after yourself. Never regret anything. And when all that's finished…_

_Come find me._

They had both kept up that end of the bargain. It was as if they drew strength from each other, their time together serving to recharge for whatever life was about to throw at them. They were really the only consistency in each other's lives. Well, until Eliot found the team. But she was a different kind of consistency, which he never wanted to lose.

Natalia wrapped her arms around Eliot's neck, pulling him into an embrace charged with emotion. She could read his mind alright. His strong hands moved to her jaw, angling her face up to his, enveloping her lips with his own.

"Mmmm, Eliot," she whispered huskily when he released her.

"We should probably get going soon huh?" He set her free, realizing that he was suddenly very hungry. He glanced at his watch as saw that it was almost eight.

"Five minutes," she playfully swatted his ass as he went to get dressed. Natalia quickly blew out her hair and twirled it up in a bun before repacking all of her things and returning to the bedroom. Eliot was already dressed and idly flipping through channels on the TV with Hannibal sitting in his lap. She replaced the bag of toiletries in her larger duffel bag, slipped on a pair of brown beaded sandals and slung a slouchy leather handbag over her shoulder before hauling her duffel off to the closet. He flipped off the TV and placed the unruly ball of fluff on the floor. The assassin still stood with the closet doors open and he curiously stepped over to see what she was staring so intently at.

He stood behind her and saw three, locked, heavy duty black cases. They were the same cases that musicians used to ship equipment and were labeled as such, but inside were layers of foam cushioning a very different type of gear.

Eliot didn't like guns and all through their training he made sure that she knew just how he felt. But she honestly didn't care. It wasn't that she _couldn't_ do what he did with his hands. Natalia was highly skilled in martial arts, with her expertise being in Krav Maga; explosive Israeli street-fighting. The assassin was a perfect sparring partner for him, their skills matched effortlessly. What he demonstrated through brute force, she countered with lithe movements and expert, almost uncanny foresight. She just _happened_ to prefer the feel of cold metal, her finger on the trigger, and the silenced pop of a perfect shot. She said it turned her on. He said they had a limited range of efficacy. She said she had a sniper rifle for that. Eliot didn't bother to argue.

He knew the smaller case contained her handguns with extra magazines of ammunition and a silencer for each. The medium sized case he figured housed an array of sharp objects. Daggers, knives, throwing stars, grappling hooks, rope and a harness most likely. The largest had to contain explosives since it was riddled with more "Handle with Care" and "This Side Up" stickers than the other two. Grenades, tear gas canisters, C4, a gas mask, and det cords. Or as she would call it, "all the fun stuff." Briefly, he considered introducing her to Parker, but he thought better of it. _Too much crazy_.

And finally, tucked in the corner was a guitar case. Only, she couldn't play guitar. What she could do was play with the controls on that sniper rifle until she took someone out with pinpoint accuracy.

"The toys all safe?" He quipped.

"Perfect," she shut the sliding mirrored doors and as she brushed past him Eliot caught a whiff of some kind of perfume that she had applied. It was a subtle woody-floral with notes of musk and vanilla that smelled _really fucking good_. Eliot followed the scent to the front door, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrored doors. He could have sworn his hair had a bit more bounce to it. And it was even…_shinier. _

_Not bad._ He thought. _Not bad at all._

_

* * *

_

**Review if you like it!**_  
_


	7. Lunch by the Sea

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **This is turning into more of a story than I originally intended, but I hope you all like where it's going nonetheless. Shout out to CharleyMom for the awesome reviews! Thank you!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

They had breakfast at the hotel cafe before hitting the streets of Havana to rebuild Eliot's wardrobe.

"You should definitely get a Speedo," Natalia teased as they made their way down the cobblestone streets of the city, past cars straight out of the 1950's. It was like being in a movie and they were the stars. She blended in easily with the locals, being of Caribbean descent, but Eliot would have stuck out like a sore thumb had it not been for his training. He was wearing the wrong clothes and Boston had made his skin a bit too pale. But he knew how to mix in to avoid looking like a tourist, and having her on his arm helped. They spoke Spanish in any conversation that was loud enough to be overheard, each quickly grasping the Cuban dialect. Every monetary transaction was carried out in Cuban Pesos, the currency of locals, which had been provided to Natalia courtesy of the US government. They lost themselves in the environment like the experts they were.

The pair found a few boutiques meant for tourists where they picked up lightweight beige cargo pants, a black polo, a few cheap fitted t-shirts and tanks, new boxer briefs, black slacks, and a black button-up shirt for a nice night out. He even found a straw fedora with dark brown and beige fabric banding at one of the local-run roadside stands. Eliot tried it on as a joke, but when he turned to Natalia, the expression on her face was undeniable. Her green eyes were lit up, nose scrunched, lips parted in an honest to goodness smile. Yeah, he had to get that hat.

After a few hours, they wandered down to the beach for lunch at a seaside cantina. It was one of those well-loved local hangouts, complete with bright peeling paint, scuffed wooden floors, and a bar that had seen its share of the Havana nightlife. Their waiter led them to a deck overlooking the beach. Eliot pulled out Natalia's chair for her in a display of chivalry that caught her off guard. But then again, it was Eliot, she should have known better. Once she was settled, he excused himself to the restroom to change into something less conspicuous and hopefully much cooler. While he was away Natalia took the liberty of ordering them both mojitos, a must-have while in Cuba.

Before long he returned and found her fiddling with one of the frayed paper coasters, gazing out to sea.

"How does it look?" He boyishly shoved his hands in his pockets.

She immediately glanced up at him through her dark aviators, a bright smile spreading across her face. "You're wearing the hat," her grin was contagious and Eliot found himself beaming as well.

"It's not too much is it?" He could feel her stare even through the shades as she traced her way over the black polo shirt, down to the cargos that fit pretty damn nicely in the ass region if he did say so himself.

"Darling, this is Havana," she removed her sunglasses and rested them on the table before picking up her menu. Eliot sat down as their drinks arrived, a smirk on his face. In Havana, everything was "too much." The heat on your skin, the weathered buildings, the brightly colored clothing, Che Guevara propaganda at nauseum, the smells of food and cigars mingling with sea air. It was a barrage to the senses that all culminated in the wonderful experience that was Cuba.

"You were undressing me with your eyes just now weren't ya?" Eliot leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the drink, surprised at how impossibly delicious it was for what he considered to be a sugary girl beverage.

"Yes, and?" she didn't even bother to look up from the page. "Don't act like you didn't sneak a peek at me getting dressed this morning."

_Damn. Caught._ He grinned. _But what a peek it had been._ He glanced over the menu before settling on chicken while Natalia opted for seafood. She couldn't resist good seafood. Once their orders had been taken, the assassin settled back in her seat and proceeded to sip her mojito.

"How's work treating you?"

"Not bad, not bad at all," he smiled. She knew a good deal about the team, most of her knowledge accumulated through stories that Eliot told over their years of trysts.

"I heard you all were going after Damien Moreau."

"How…" his face took on a look of mild confusion. "Where'd ya hear that?"

"In this line of work you hear things. We wanted to go after him ourselves, but there are about 12 names that rank higher on our list of priorities. Plus, when we heard Nate Ford was going after him, well…" she leaned into the table, folding her arms and propping her elbows on the surface. "We didn't see fit to continue an active investigation at this time. That one's all yours."

"Thanks," Eliot huffed a bit sarcastically. He wasn't exactly happy with how Nate had handled some aspects of the case, but he did trust the man's judgment. He supposed that was all he could do for now.

"Just…" Natalia idly trailed a finger through the condensation on her glass before looking him straight in the eye, "be careful."

"Yes, ma'am."

"How are you and Hardison getting along?" She again leaned back in her chair, this time pulling her hair out of the bun it had been wrapped in all morning, causing her hair to cascade down over her shoulders in big loose waves. It was always a different color every time he saw her. Chocolate brown, dark red, highlighted, low-lighted, she even had blue streaks once. Last year it had been a stunning auburn. This year it was a subtle fade, starting with her natural black at the roots and ending in a shade of lighter red-ish brown. He vaguely remembered Sophie saying that it was going to be a big trend this fall as she flipped through one of her girly magazines, but he couldn't remember what she had called it. _Oh wait, she had asked a question._

"Fine, I guess," he was fighting the urge to reach across the table and run his fingers through those locks. "I think lately I've been a bit harsher with him than usual."

"Not surprised," she casually tousled her hair before tossing it over the shoulder that her shirt didn't cover.

"How's that?"

"You were too stressed. Too tense. Whatever you've been doing over the last little while has been boiling under the surface with no outlet. Makes sense that you'd take it out on him. Doesn't make it right, but it makes sense."

She never missed a thing. Natalia had always believed 99% of communication was comprised of body language and actions. She was naturally very perceptive, but her training and experience had pushed it over the edge. It was impossible to slip anything by her.

When he sat down and thought about it, that's exactly what it was; his job had been stressing him out. The team had taken case after case with no breaks in between. Eliot's body had taken a beating, which was just part of the reason why one of his normal and perhaps best outlets – sex – hadn't been an option for three months before now. He had been running on high alert for longer than he'd realized, wearing himself thin while everyone else preserved their sanity, one way or another. Nate drank, Sophie bought things, Hardison played video games, Parker jumped off buildings. And ate fortune cookies, or whatever.

But Eliot, no. It took this long for him to finally let it all go.

"What did I do?" He asked with a smirk on his face. He could pick up others' tells with ease, but apparently he wasn't so good at suppressing his own in front of her. Or maybe she just knew him too well.

"The way you fucked me last night gave it away."

His eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips pursed a bit as he shot a nervous glance over to the inside of the cantina, making sure no one was within earshot.

"Cool it Spencer. The guy at the end of the bar is more absorbed in his cigar and the soccer match on TV than anything else. The couple in the corner booth, most likely on honeymoon, they're too busy playing tonsil hockey to give a shit. And our waiter, who happens to be the bartender as well, is back in the kitchen, because he's also one of the cooks."

The entire time those big green eyes never left him. Yeah, she was really _freaking good_ at this.

"Go on," it was his turn to lean in and rest his crossed arms on the table.

"Sex last night was like fighting with you. You pushed me, I pushed back, you pushed harder. It was desperate, it was rough, it was **fucking** in every sense of the word. And it was _amazing._ But it's not how you usually operate, at least not the first time we see each other. You usually take your time."

He imagined at that moment that his expression held a mixture of shock and satisfaction, tinged with a bit of guilt. He worried that he may have moved too fast, or been too greedy in his pursuit of pleasure.

"And you can wipe the guilt right off of your face," she continued. "I needed it as much as you did," she leaned in and smiled. "Your muscles weren't so tense this morning and your entire demeanor is more relaxed. It feels good to know I did that."

He would have kissed her just then if their food hadn't arrived. She was his medicine and his drug all in the same fiercely sexy package and he was dying for another hit.

They spent the rest of the meal chatting and laughing, content in the fact that they were indeed very good for each other. It was mid afternoon by the time they made it back to the hotel.

"I'm going to go take Hannibal out for a bit," Natalia dropped her purse on the writing desk and scooped up the puppy, who was very happy to see both of them. "Stay and relax," she kissed him before putting a homemade harness and leash on the little dog and slipping out the door.

Eliot's list of priorities then was as follows; change and nap. Naps usually weren't his style, but seeing as how he _was _on vacation, and sleep wasn't exactly what he had in mind for tonight, he figured he could allow himself the luxury. The hitter carefully removed and folded everything he had been wearing before selecting a new tank and a fresh pair of boxer briefs. He stretched out on the side of the bed closest to the window, and promptly fell asleep. 


	8. The Thief's Phone Call

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Special appearances by Parker and Hardison this chapter! Don't forget to review!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Natalia returned about 20 minutes later and dished out some food and water for the puppy, and closed the bathroom door to prevent the noise from waking Eliot. She slipped off her shoes and clothes, leaving only her underwear, and washed her face before padding back to the bedroom. Eliot was lying on his back on top of the sheets, his right hand on his stomach. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her lover and really, the closest thing she had to a best friend. Her eyes traced the contours of his face, his brown hair splayed across the white pillow, the curves of his arms, heavy with muscle. They lingered on the scarred fingers on his stomach that rose and fell with his every breath. Those brutal fingers were capable of such intimacy when they were trailing through her hair, moving across her breasts, or tracing the curve of her face. She was privy to a tenderness that few could even fathom. Natalia smiled to herself before her gaze fell on the tendrils of ink that spread across his left calf. The tattoo was a self-inflicted scar that he had acquired long ago. It had been a huge turn-on the very first time he showed it to her and she wasn't sure that it had lost its appeal just yet. The assassin laughed softly as she climbed into bed, gently pressing her body against him and lacing her fingers through his. He lazily stirred at the addition of new warmth to his space and wrapped his left arm around her.

"Mmmm," he rumbled when his hand found skin in lieu of fabric. Her hand crept under his black tank, fingers tracing the contours of his stomach.

"Off," she whispered as she lightly tugged on the hem of his shirt. She wanted to feel _him_ and the fabric was diluting the sensation. He wriggled around a bit to oblige her request and finally skin met skin, satisfying a primal hunger for contact. She rested her head against his shoulder and laced one smooth leg through his as he stroked her hair and drifted back to sleep.

Eliot woke to the sound of thunder and rain spattering against the balcony door. His body abruptly and involuntarily tensed, shaking Natalia from her slumber.

"Afternoon thunderstorm," she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his neck. "Should pass in a few minutes." Eliot was well aware that it rained at just about the same time every afternoon in tropical regions, he had just forgotten that he was in one. In his drowsy state, the thunder sounded an awful lot like the echoes of explosions past that sometimes replayed in his dreams. The sudden noise opened a floodgate of memories that he would have rather kept locked away.

"I'm sorry," his voice barely audible. He couldn't anticipate the relapse of emotion, nor could he control it.

"It's okay," she purred, rubbing a hand soothingly along his stomach in an attempt to diffuse the sudden tension. She knew where his mind was. Hers sometimes went there too. As terrible as it could be, it also meant that she knew how to deal with it. Natalia sat up and straddled him before she murmured, "come here." Eliot sat up and she pressed her body against him, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. She knew just how powerful it was to just be held in moments like these. "I've got you Eliot." He tightened his arms around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"I'll_ always_ have you," Natalia whispered in his ear. After a few moments she could feel his heartbeat begin to slow and level out and she loosened her grip on his neck as his eyes met hers. They were tinged with a bit more grey than usual. The assassin's lips found his, slowly and softly sucking on his mouth, reinforcing her statement through touch. She understood him.

"Thunder doesn't get you sometimes?" Eliot asked when their lips parted. Her arms rested loosely on his shoulders, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

"Not thunder so much as things that make loud 'bangs' or 'pops.' Car backfires, doors slamming, balloons popping."

"Soda cans being opened," Eliot continued.

"YES," she smiled. "I thought I was the only one who got that."

"Nope. Champagne will do it sometimes too," the hitter trailed his fingers over her back, finding solace in the fact that he wasn't alone. Or crazy.

"I almost pulled a .45 on a waiter at The Ivy when he popped open a bottle. I wasn't even on a job."

"You had a Colt .45 on you at The Ivy…" Eliot gave her a look.

"My Colt is my best friend. We go everywhere together."

Eliot laughed because it was true. She even had it in her giant handbag today, as he discovered when she asked him to hold it for a minute while she tried on a jacket. "I really don't think you need any more deadly weapons on you than you already have," he growled huskily.

"Oh really?" She arched an eyebrow. "And what are those?" Fake question. She knew exactly what he meant.

"Well for one, these right here," he trailed his nose along the curves of her breasts that peeked out over her bra, planting kisses on her warm skin before nipping her left breast through the fabric. She arched into him at the sensation, heightened by his stubble scratching against her skin. She could feel him stiffen under her.

"What else Eliot," she moved her hips teasingly against him, provoking the hitter.

He let out a low mischievous laugh. His hands suddenly gripped her waist hard, picking her up just enough to flip her over and shove her face-down onto the bed in front of him. Natalia let out a harsh moan as Eliot ran his calloused fingers down the small of her back and over the full curves of her butt.

"This fucking ass," his voice started to take on that deep gruff tone that betrayed his arousal. He leaned over her, supporting his weight with a hand on either side of her head, kissing her cheek, neck, and shoulder.

"Oh God, Eliot," she groaned as he positioned the tent in his boxer-briefs between her legs, grinding himself slowly against her. Even through her underwear she could feel his searing heat and just how hard she was making him. She rolled her hips in circles causing him to bite his bottom lip and groan. Eliot kissed his way down her neck, trailing his tongue over her skin before gently biting her shoulder. He was about to unhook her bra, but was stopped by the jarring clatter of a phone vibrating against the dresser.

"Shit," Eliot grunted before leaning back on his haunches and grabbing his phone. He growled when he saw the name on the caller ID. _Parker._ He should probably get that. She'd be upset if he ignored her.

"Hey," he answered, twisting to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Eliot!" The voice on the other end of the line excitedly replied. "So what are ya doing? What are you up to?"

"Nothin' Parker," he fought to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Is there something you need?" He could feel Natalia moving around on the bed behind him.

"Nah, just wanted to say 'hi.'"

"Hi," he replied unenthusiastically and ran his fingers though his hair. Natalia wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the back of his left shoulder before pressing her body against his. His eyes widened a fraction. She had taken off her bra.

"Hardison said that you're in Cuba," she was crunching away on cereal, her mouth half open as she chewed, in typical Parker style. Natalia's fingers trailed lightly over his biceps and brushed his soft brown strands off of his neck, exposing his skin to her nips and kisses. "Whatcha doing in Cuba?"

"Seeing a friend," he wasn't in the mood to make small talk. But she was Parker and he couldn't exactly get mad at her. That would be like getting angry at a small child. Or kicking a puppy…or something. "Is Hardison there right now?" The hacker was a more appropriate target, and was _so_ going to get it for giving his whereabouts away.

"Nah, he went to the grocery store. I thought you weren't allowed to go to Cuba."

"You're not, Parker, but there are ways around it," his voice grew rough as Natalia's tongue played with his earlobe.

"So, what's so important that you wanted to get around it?" Eliot could hear the clink of a metal spoon against her teeth as she shoveled another bite into her mouth.

"I told you, I wanted to see someone." Someone whose hands had made their way into his lap.

"Audrey," Parker stated matter-of-factly.

"How did you…? Look, why are you asking me all of these questions when you already know the answers?" Eliot was definitely annoyed now.

"I wanted to talk to you. I miss everyone."

"Parker, I haven't …_oh fuck…_ even been gone a day," he struggled to get the words out. Natalia was fondling his balls through his maroon boxer briefs, still nibbling on his ear. His cock was so hard it almost hurt and he was sure that he was leaking enough pre-come to soak through the fabric of his underwear.

"Yeah, but still. So what's she like? Is she hot? Hardison said she was hot," this Natalia heard. She ceased her ministrations and buried her face in the back of his shoulder so that Parker wouldn't hear her choke back a laugh. Eliot smiled.

"Yeah. She's _really_ hot," he stressed his words as the assassin's hands went back to the heat in his lap. This time her fingers slipped under the waistband. He propped himself up and helped her pull them off, freeing him from his cloth prison, relieving some of the ache it had been causing. Her fingers wrapped around his dick, stroking him slowly and teasingly.

"Hardison wouldn't show me her picture. I think you should take one on your phone and send it to me."

Eliot hadn't _actually_ heard what Parker had said. He could have sworn that the blood had left his ears and gone straight to his cock. The assassin's hands were magic; she twisted her wrist a bit on the upstroke and squeezed just hard enough over the tip on the way down.

"Wh...what Parker?" He growled, more dazed than angry.

"Take a picture!" She was a bit peeved with his lack of attention. Just then Natalia pulled away from him and shuffled around on the bed before Eliot started seeing black.

The little minx had just blindfolded him. With her underwear.

"I, uhhm, don't think…maybe later…Parker," he ground out. He didn't usually like this; he had been blindfolded in more unfavorable conditions than he could count. It symbolized a clear distinction of power. A total loss of control. There were only two people in the world he would allow to do this to him. One was Aimee. The other, was currently raking her nails down his back. And to do it while he was on the phone. With_ Parker_ of all people. He supposed the only thing worse would be Sophie. Thank God it wasn't Sophie. Sophie would have figured out what was happening on his end of the line. _That_ would have been embarrassing.

"Ughh fine," Parker huffed. Natalia had gotten off of the bed to stand in front of him. She trailed her fingers down his chest, sending chills up his spine and making his cock twitch. "Can I talk to her?" Came Parker's voice again. _Goddamit. Why the hell was Parker so fascinated with her? She didn't give a shit about anyone else he fucked. What made this so special? If Hardison had told her that Natalia…or…Audrey, rather…was an assassin, he swore he was going to punch him in the face. He wasn't supposed to say ANYTHING let alone give away her identity. _Yeah, he was gonna punch him in the face alright.

Before Eliot could answer, Natalia took his cell from him and shoved him back onto the bed.

"Hello Parker," she practically purred into the phone.

"Oh my God you're a real person!" Parker screamed so loud that even Eliot could hear her.

The assassin laughed, "Yes Parker, I'm a real person." She straddled Eliot's hips and leaned down to kiss him, holding the phone just far enough away from her mouth that Parker wouldn't be able to hear the sound of their lips pressed together.

"So how do you know Eliot?" Parker probed.

"We went to school together," she offered a simple answer to the thief's question as her lips found Eliot's clavicle before gently nipping a trail down his chest and stomach. His right hand tangled in her soft hair, while his left fit in the curve of her neck, thumb tracing circles over her throat.

"Cool. So did Eliot have long hair back then?" The hitter could still make out Parker's questions and their triviality would have pissed him off more if Natalia's mouth wasn't so close to his dick.

The assassin let out a soft laugh, her warm, moist breath ghosting over his cock. "No, it was short back then."

"Oh. I don't think he'd look good with short hair," at that Eliot's hands left the assassin and raked through his now longer and apparently better hair in a display of frustration.

"I like the long hair too," she smiled, "but I think Eliot wants his phone back now. It was nice talking to you Parker," Natalia warmly responded before reaching up to hold the phone to Eliot's ear for him to take.

"Parker…"

"I like her. She's nice," the thief offered her approval.

"Yeah, well we're going to _dinner now,_" his voice tensed as the assassin's tongue traced the underside of his cock.

"Whoa, are you okay Eliot?" Parker was surprised at his sudden change in tone.

"_Yeah, Parker, I just…stubbed my toe,"_ his voice was rough as her lips slipped over his tip and she took him deeper into her mouth.

"Well, don't do that!" She chastised. "Call me later then."

"_Bye…Parker,_" he quickly hung up the phone and unceremoniously flung it onto the bed before his hands returned to her hair. She had her right fist around the base of his shaft, the fingers of her left hand toying with the trail of hair that lead from his belly button to his package. He was panting through parted lips and bucking his hips up to her mouth.

Just then a phone rang.

* * *

Back in Boston, Hardison had just walked through the door to his apartment carrying three grocery bags, two of which were filled with milk and cereal.

"Hey girl, what have you been up to?" He set the contents of his arms on the kitchen counter as the thief came bounding in from the living room.

"I called Eliot," she stuffed her hands into her back pockets.

"And? Did you actually get him?" The hacker turned to put milk in the fridge.

"It doesn't really matter anymore that you didn't show me her picture. I got to talk to her."

At that, Hardison looked up from what he was doing. "_You _got to talk to the assassin?"

"Yeah," the look on Parker's face was one of pure victory. "She's nice."

"Wha…well what did she say?" He was pissed that she of all people had gotten to talk to the girl he had been secretly fantasizing about for the last day.

"I'm not telling you," she teased.

"Dammit Parker. What did she sound like? Did she sound hot?"

"Hot has a sound?"

"Pa…just…never mind," he put a box of cereal in front of her. "You know what? Fine. I'll just go look at her picture again," he glared defiantly before walking off to his study, or as Parker called it, the "Computer Fortress."

"Can I see?" She called after him.

"NO."

Parker smirked at her victory before returning to the couch, her hand stuffed into a freshly opened box of what Hardison referred to as "Fruity Something-or-Other." She was enjoying this little game. Mostly because she was playing it with him. And winning.

Vacation wasn't so bad after all.


	9. Dance With Me

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to those who reviewed!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Just then a phone rang.

Eliot was about to smash his cell against the wall when he realized that it wasn't his phone.

"Fuck," she breathed as her mouth left his dick. She climbed off of the bed and ran the back of her hand across her swollen lips as she fumbled through her purse to find her phone. Eliot untied her underwear, restoring his sight.

"Yeah Davis," she answered as he sat up, taking in the sight of her curvy silhouette against the dim light of the window. He knew Davis was her boss. "Shit, alright. Yeah, I'll see you later then." Eliot ran a hand over the curve of her ass as she hung up her phone and tossed it onto the table. She turned to cup his face in her hands as he held her hips, looking up at her. "This gets finished later," she whispered seductively before she enveloped his lips with hers.

The assassin reluctantly pulled away from him and slipped on a fluffy hotel robe from the closet just as a knock sounded on the door. Eliot knew she had gotten another assignment and was most likely handed an envelope of paperwork and plane tickets. He heard her politely thank the man at the door before returning with a manila envelope. She cleared the writing desk before setting it down and reaching into her backpack for her laptop.

"Everything alright?" he asked as he pulled on his boxer briefs.

"Yeah. Just business." She flashed him a smile.

"How soon?" He knew that they wouldn't have much time left. Those packages were like little envelopes of doom.

"Day after tomorrow. Early in the morning," her big green eyes told him everything. They had gotten used to leaving by now, but somehow every time it got a little harder. Seeing each other every year had become something expected; their very own unalienable right. But with every year came the possibility of new danger, and new love. Not that that was a bad thing. Each would be thrilled for the other if they found it. That was how deep _their _love was. But there would always be that selfishness, that longing of one for the other. And now they would have to do it again. They only had one more day before goodbye.

Eliot stood up and wrapped a hand around the base of her neck, gently pulling her to him before laying a long kiss on the top of her head. She pressed her cheek against his chest and he held her there for a moment.

"How long do you think you've got on there?" He nodded towards her laptop. She had to check in with headquarters and get her files together.

"Half an hour at most," she looked up at him.

"Alright. Finish it up and then put on some heels. I'm taking you dancing."

Her face lit up into that million dollar smile. She would have her taste of the Havana nightlife after all.

Thirty minutes later, Eliot was staring into the mirror, adjusting his fedora. Natalia came strutting into the bathroom, makeup bag in hand. She set it down on the counter, brushing her hair off of her face and neck. Natalia leaned into the mirror slightly as she applied sheer foundation, accentuating her butt as she did. Eliot's attention flew from his reflection to her standing right beside him. She was wearing the same outfit as before, as was he, only now she had added a pair of heels that made his pants fit just a bit tighter. They were nearly five inches of black platform suede that accentuated her calves, the muscles in her thighs, and, of course, her ass. They made her just a tad bit taller than him, but he could overlook that. Eliot bit his bottom lip, fighting the urge to bend her over the counter right there.

"How's the view?" Natalia purred. Eliot caught her smokey green eyes in the mirror.

"Stunning," he growled as he stood behind her, brushing her hair aside, allowing him to suck on her neck. Her scent invaded his nose, the florals in her hair, the vanilla in her perfume, a hint of something uniquely "her" lingering on her skin. She braced herself against the counter, closing her eyes at the sensation as he held her waist. Eliot moaned as she wrapped a leg around his rubbing her foot along the back of his calf. They could have stayed like this for hours. But he had promised her at least one dance.

The night air was heavy with humidity and the sound of distant music as they roamed the street in search of the perfect hangout. Natalia's heels clicked on the cobblestone and Eliot reached out just enough to find her hand before snaking his fingers through hers. She had forgone a purse in favor of some Cuban Pesos and her phone in her pockets and a knife secured in the small of her back. They knew enough to stay away from the large tourist clubs and settled on a bar on the beach with a live salsa band. It wasn't overly crowded, but there were enough bodies on the dance floor that Eliot wouldn't feel exposed. His first order of business was to get some rum in him if he was going to follow through on his promise to dance. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ dance, he just preferred not to when there were other people around. The fact that he was in a foreign country surrounded by people he'd never see again didn't really matter. He gestured to the bartender for two glasses of rum on the rocks, which were quickly placed in front of them.

"To you darlin'," Eliot held up his glass in Natalia's direction as he leaned backwards against the bar, eyes locked on hers.

"To old friends," she clinked her glass against his as he grinned and they each took a sip.

Eliot took a minute to take in the pleasant assault on his senses. The warm, humid air smelled of cigars, sweat, and sea. The horns from the band were ringing in his ears as he took another sip of rum, feeling it warm his throat and chest. His sense of sight right now was probably his favorite though, as his frame of vision was filled by what had to be the most beautiful assassin in the world. The lighting in the bar was a dim warm gold, accented by a string of red Christmas lights, and blue neon advertising imported beer. It bathed her bronze skin, glinting off of her hair, all shining in her big liquid green eyes.

Apparently though, he wasn't the only one who appreciated her beauty, because there was a drunken tourist behind her who was a little too interested in showing his appreciation. The hitter didn't take kindly to the way he was looking at Natalia. And he happened to be getting a little too close for Eliot's comfort. Immediately she read the look in his eyes just before his expression turned to mild annoyance.

"Tourist?" She asked.

"Yeah," he growled.

"Drunk?"

"Yeah," Eliot moved a bit closer to her, just in case. It was a gesture born of his gentlemanly habit of taking care of the women he was with. He forgot sometimes that this woman in particular could take care of herself, thank you very much.

"Easy big boy," she ran her fingers over his arm as she adjusted her position to lean against the bar. "No need to get snippy until the looking turns to touching."

"Yeah, but I don't particularly like the way he's lookin'," Eliot's voice had dropped to that low growl, only this was the pissed off one, not the turned on one. She was right though. He couldn't go punching guys out just for looking at her. He'd be leaving a trail of unconscious assholes a mile long. Drunken Tourist let out a low whistle which Natalia ignored.

"Hey honey, I'm talking to you," his accent was slurred American. Apparently he was smart enough to get into the country, but not enough to pace his drinks.

"Hey man, back off," Eliot warned, his eyes locked on the intruders'.

"Hey man, I wasn't talking to you," he mocked Eliot's accent. That's when annoyed flipped to pissed the fuck off. The hitter made a move to step towards him, but Natalia planted a hand square on his chest, stopping his motion.

"Easy…" she purred, remarkably calm considering the situation.

"I just wanted to talk to your girl here," he put his hand on her shoulder, only to have Eliot immediately smack it off.

"Touch her again and I swear…" Eliot snarled, staring daggers over Natalia's shoulder at the drunk. She kept her hand on his chest and it was literally the only thing stopping the hitter from mashing him to a pulp.

"Why don't you let her speak for herself? I just want to buy you a drink sweetheart," the man's hand snaked around her waist. Bad idea. Wrong woman.

Eliot saw her eyes flash just before she whipped around, grabbing his wrist as she went, wrenching his arm backwards into a chicken-wing lock. She held him face-down into the bar with other hand before she leaned down so he could hear her over the music.

"I prefer to let my actions do the talking. Also, don't ever touch a woman without her permission. It's rude and it ain't gonna get you anywhere. Now run along and go play with your drunk little frat boys over there," she tightened her hold for effect. "Oh, and you best watch your back. You never know when Uncle Sam will crack down on illegal visits to Cuba. It'd be a pity if you never made it back to the states, now wouldn't it?" At that she released him and stepped aside as he staggered backwards, shocked out of his prior stupor. With wide eyes he mouthed "bitch" before stumbling over to his group of friends in a smoky corner of the bar.

Natalia fluffed her hair as she turned back to Eliot, taking another sip of her rum.

"How'd you know he was a frat boy?" He asked before motioning for another drink as he drained his first.

"I saw them when we walked in. They all have the same haircut."

Eliot laughed as the bartender brought two more glasses.

"One more for the lady on the house for handling that with style," the bartender said in Spanish, reaching out to shake her hand before returning to tend his customers.

"I can't take you anywhere can I?"

"No," she smiled and toyed with the collar of his polo. "You got enough alcohol in your system that I can get my dance now?" Her fingers moved to play with his hair.

Eliot downed his fresh drink and pointed to hers. She shook her head with a smirk on her face and handed the glass to him.

"Okay," he swallowed the last of his drink with a face and she took his hands in hers before pulling him out into the middle of the crowd. Natalia draped her arms over his shoulders and he ran his hands down her back before they settled on her waist as he made an effort to move to the music. She wound her hips to the rhythm being hammered out on a pair of tumbadoras, staring him down with her wicked eyes. She moved like a cat, lithe and seductive in his arms as she ran her fingers down his chest. He grabbed one of her hands and spun her around as the brass reached a crescendo. When she spun back into him he stepped forward, his chest meeting her back, stopping her motion. Natalia wrapped her arms backwards around his neck as his nose brushed her ear. She slowly ground her ass against Eliot's package causing his breath to quicken against her neck. The feel of him; solid muscle against her back, his arms around her waist, her fingers in the ends of his hair, the music enveloping them, it all combined to push her into a mild delirium. She wanted him and she wanted him now. His grip tightened on her hips before he spun her around to face him.

"Let's get outta here," he growled before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the bar.

Eliot gestured to a fresh bottle of the rum they had been drinking as Natalia stuffed some pesos into his other hand. He was mildly amused to find that the bills were warm from being in her pocket. "I'll take the whole thing," Eliot slipped the bartender a few more Cuban Pesos than the bottle of rum was worth before grabbing Natalia's hand and blazing a trail through people down to the beach. 


	10. Sand

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Soo sorry that this update took so long! I've been dealing with some stuff lately that made this a bit hard to write, but don't worry I will definitely keep at it. Hope it was worth the wait!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_There's a little moonlight, dancing on the sand,  
There's a warm breeze blowin by the ocean as you're takin my hand…  
The scent of your perfume, floatin in the air,  
Lookin like an angel lyin on a blanket with a halo of hair.  
And those lips, look too good to be true,  
Once I taste that kiss, I know what'll happen,  
I'll be at the mercy of you…  
_

Natalia stopped him just before they hit the beach, bracing herself against his shoulder as she removed her heels, sinking her toes into the sand. "Good idea," Eliot handed her the bottle and did the same, stuffing his socks into his shoes.

They made their way out from the bar far enough that the noise and lights from the crowd had faded, giving way to the soft lap of the sea. Eliot let his shoes drop from his hand before stretching his arms out in front of him, crossing his legs at the knees, and flopping down butt-first into the sand. Natalia laughed at him before sitting to his right and resting her head on his shoulder. She lazily slit the paper seal on the cap of the rum before unscrewing it and sitting up to take a sip. Eliot let out a soft laugh as she slowly brought the bottle down from her lips.

"Yes?" She raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Nothin," he smiled, "I was just thinkin about the first time we went out drinkin."

She laughed at the way alcohol brought out his accent as her mind drifted back to the memory. It had been a Friday back in "school" and Eliot insisted they spend the night down at the bar. His reasoning was that they had all of Saturday and Sunday to be hungover before classes again on Monday. They split the cost of a bottle of Jack and he had been determined to finish it all that night.

"How many did we have?"

"Eight shots each in about an hour and a half," she raised the bottle to her lips again.

"Ah yes," Eliot grinned. "I was so sure I'd beat you."

"Of course you were," a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes.

"Soo wrong. Hell, you were the one picking my drunk ass up off the floor," his face was lit up with a full smile, mirth lines showing around his eyes.

"You can't out-drink genetics, Love," she had inherited her father's Caribbean alcohol tolerance, something Eliot learned the hard way.

"No, momma, no you can't," she smiled at the nickname as he reached out a hand to cup the back of her neck and pulled her to him, laying a kiss on the top of her head. She was the one who walked home with him and tucked him into his bed, propped up on his side with a trashcan on the floor just in case. She was the one who stayed the night and woke him gently with a cup of coffee, a hot breakfast and a beautiful smile. His head was pounding, his voice was hoarse, and he would have punched someone out if she hadn't closed all of the blinds in his apartment, and yet he still considered it to be one of the greatest mornings of his life. It was the first time they spent the night in the same bed. The first time he woke to the sight of her in his t-shirt and boxers. She had that sexy morning hair tossed over one shoulder and her clear green eyes, the brightest thing in his field of vision, stared back into his bloodshot ones. How she wasn't hungover and in just as miserable state as he, Eliot never figured out. Just another one of her mysterious powers that when added up equated to Natalia.

"You haven't called me that in so long," she whispered into the breeze that brushed over them from off the sea.

"What, momma? Well I ain't seen you in so long," he held her body against his, cheek resting on the top of her head. "I'm gonna miss you when you leave, you know that right?" Eliot admitted.

She pulled away from him, a bit surprised at his sudden rush of emotion. In all of their partings, they always left those critical words unspoken, living on the philosophy that things unsaid were just as powerful as those confessed.

"I'm going to miss you too Eliot," she looked up at him, his gaze now directed straight out to sea. "Hey…" she stuffed the bottle of rum into the sand before crawling her way into his lap. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything momma," he looked up at her, hands rubbing her shoulder blades.

"I'm starting to think this whole 'seeing you once a year' thing isn't going to cut it anymore. I miss you too much."

At that moment he cradled the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss that caused his fedora to fall backwards into the sand. She ran her fingers through his hair as his tongue played with hers. He tasted of Eliot and spiced rum, a combination that she wanted to lock away forever as only hers to savor.

"I think you're right," he rumbled as she brushed the hair out of his face. Natalia sighed and wriggled out of his lap, flopping down on her back into the soft white sand, staring up at him. Eliot ran a finger over her jaw line, his touch light enough to make her involuntarily tremble. His thumb moved to trace the contours of her lips, brushing across the peaks of her cupid's bow, down into the dimple in the middle of her full bottom lip. Her breathing was unsteady now, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she surrendered to the sensation. Eliot knew that this _always_ got her.

He had learned through years of somewhat nefarious sexscapades that _every_ woman had at least one socially acceptable place which, when touched, instantly turned them on. The backs of their knees, the inside of their elbows, if he touched their shoulders just so. He had made it a point to find that magic spot on every woman he had ever been with. Few, however, managed to discover that his ears were what made him tick.

Natalia possessed two of these magical little triggers; the back of her neck and her lips. Touch her just right and one of the most dangerous women in the world was putty in your hands. It was a bit of payback for the deliciously torturous stunt she had pulled on him earlier. He was going to make her finish what she started sooner or later, by the way. But right now he was enjoying his power over her as he moved down her neck and under the loose collar of her shirt. His fingers dipped into the valley between her breasts before sliding under her bra to cup her firm flesh in his palm.

"Eliot," she gasped, her voice breathy, back arched, pressing herself up into his hand. She looked incredible lying there below him. Her dark hair was splayed across the white sand, hands gripping desperate handfuls of it in an effort to withstand the sweet torture the hitter was inflicting. His fingers circled her hardened nipple before he leaned down to kiss her, stealing the breath from her throat as her fingers tangled in his silky hair. He pulled his hand away from her soft skin, fingers moving to slip under her shorts. She grabbed his wrist before he went any further.

Eliot froze, his eyes locked on hers, searching for why she had stopped him. Natalia cocked her head to the right and he looked up to see what she had gestured towards. A little ways off were the large thatched umbrellas of a nearby hotel complete with rolled up towels on plush reclining beach chairs. The hitter immediately caught on. They were exposed where they were, surrounded by nothing but sand. The pair was all for some extra excitement, but there was a line between excitement and exhibitionism.

"Twenty meters, third umbrella in. Race ya," a mischievous glint flashed in Natalia's eyes before she grabbed her shoes and bolted. "Don't forget the rum," she yelled back at him.

"You little…" Eliot began before he realized he'd better get moving. He snatched up his shoes and hat before groping for the rum sitting propped up in the sand and dashing after her. Naturally he lost.

"No fair," he dumped everything but the bottle onto the sand at the foot of one beach chair before sitting down facing her.

"Tell you what," she moved to stand between his legs as he swallowed a mouthful of rum. "I'll make it up to you," Natalia unclipped the pocket knife from the back of her shorts, tossing it into one of her shoes, before unzipping and slipping out of her khaki shorts. Eliot sat the bottle back into the sand with a grin. She had switched out her thong for a pair of black lace boy shorts that showed plenty of cheek while leaving just enough to the imagination; just how he liked it. Eliot let out a low growl and hooked and arm around her waist, pulling her to him. He hiked up her shirt allowing his lips access to her stomach. Eliot blazed a trail of kisses, licks, and soft bites across her firm abs. Her hands frantically tore at his shirt, yanking it up over his head and disposing of it in the sand. Natalia dug her nails into his muscled shoulders and gently pulled at his hair, the mild pain egging him on. The hitter's calloused fingers kneaded her ass as he laid a firm nip on her hipbone. Suddenly he stopped, tossing his head to clear the stray hair out of his eyes as he looked up at her.

"I'm sorry wait just one second. Is this hunk of meat right here USDA certified?" He twisted her hips to get a better look and playfully smacked her ass.

She let out a laugh before answering. "No, but last time I checked it _was_ an Eliot Spencer certified Grade A hunk of meat," she looked down at him, tendrils of her dark hair dancing in the breeze, green eyes sparkling.

"So it's ESGA certified. Hell, well that's good enough for me," he ran his fingers under the lace of her boy shorts, hiking up one side enough to allow him to lay a hearty bite on one cheek. "That's quality right there."

She shook her head before pushing him off of her and backing up enough to take off her shirt. Eliot tossed the rolled up hotel towel on the ground before stretching out onto the cushions of the chair, hands behind his head, obviously enjoying the view. The assassin ran a foot up his clothed leg, gently brushing her toes over the bulge in his cargos, eliciting a groan from his mouth. Her foot moved to his hip and pushed until she had successfully shoved him off of the chair and into the sand. Immediately she straddled the hitter before he had time to react, feeling him already deliciously hard beneath her. Natalia flipped open the button on his cargos, hands massaging his stomach.

"You gonna finish what you started, you little cock-tease?" He sat up and growled against her lips before capturing them between his own.

Natalia let out a low mischievous laugh as her fingers pulled at the zipper on his pants. She moved to trace her tongue along the outside of his earlobe before lightly nipping it. Eliot's breath was hot on her neck, his hands gripping her hair. "Down boy," the assassin purred and he compiled. She shuffled around, gently, almost lovingly placing the rolled towel behind his head and tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Her fingers lingered a moment on his scruffy cheek before moving to pull off his cargos. She settled between his legs as her fingers teased him through his boxer briefs before pulling his dick out of them. Natalia's long fingers gently touched his velvety skin, impossibly soft against the tantalizing hardness beneath. She traced the tip of her tongue along the underside of his shaft before taking all of his length into her mouth, catching Eliot off guard.

"Ohh fuck," he growled, unable to still the reflexive thrust of his hips up into her warm mouth. Natalia massaged his balls as her painfully skilled mouth bobbed up and down along his cock. He fisted her hair, his breathing coming in harsh gasps. He fought the urge to fuck her tight little throat right there until he came. He wanted to make her swallow every fuckin' ounce of him, and he was about to, before a hard hand on his hip shattered his fantasy. She pulled away from him, prompting a borderline snarl as he craned his neck to look down at her.

The sight temporarily abated his anger. He wanted to freeze what he saw and keep it forever. Her hair was wild, falling in her eyes, cascading down her shoulders, and tickling his thighs. Her lips were swollen and moist; the tendons in her neck visible with every intake of breath. Her eyes, dark and wide with lust, flashed something devilish and he knew what he was in for. She straddled him before he could think, shifted her underwear aside, and sank down onto the hitter with a gasp.

"Better?" She sighed with a smile.

"Mmmhhmm," he rumbled. "Get movin cowgirl," he slapped her ass before feeling her thighs tighten around him. She began to rock her hips, slowly at first, running her hands across his tight stomach. She threw her whole body into riding him, back arched, abs tightened, hips rolling smoothly as she ground against him. The hitter reached his hands up to cup her breasts through her bra, causing her to toss her head back with a moan. The ends of her hair brushed his thighs, sending a shiver up his spine. Eliot's fingers dipped under the fabric that restrained the perfect globes of her chest and he ran the pads of his thumbs over her stiff nipples causing her to pick up her pace. His breathing was rough as he bucked his hips up to meet her movement and his hands left her chest to tangle in her hair.

Natalia slowed back to a grind, her nails digging into his shoulders. She wound tight circles around his length, stimulating every inch of him. The assassin had technique unmatched by any woman he'd ever been with. Every move was finessed, pulled from her repertoire and executed perfectly to induce the sensation of her choosing. She relished this position of power. Eliot was under her delicious control, forbidden from doing anything she didn't find immediately gratifying. When he pumped his hips harder, urging her to move faster, she slowed instead, fingers digging into his stomach in warning. When she decided his hands on her arms were a waste of time, she moved them to her ass instead. When he attempted to sit up and kiss her, she shoved him back into the sand with a predatory flash of her eyes and a clawed hand dangerously close to his neck. _She_ was running this show. And it wasn't over until she said so. He needed to start thinking about something unsexy. He had to concentrate on anything that would keep him from coming before she let him. _Math problems, sad puppies, Hardison…_

_Oh, whoa. That last one was working a bit too well. _

Natalia leaned down to trail her mouth across the contours of his sweat-dampened chest, her tongue paying ample attention to each nipple, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans. Eliot's eyes were shut tightly, brow furrowed, head pressed back into the towel as her lips dipped into the hollow between his pecs before moving up to his neck. The little seductress was making him mad. She replaced the hand on his mouth with her soft full lips and the hitter could taste his sweat on her. Hungrily he consumed her, craning his neck to press his mouth harder against hers. He bit the assassin's bottom lip before sucking it back into his mouth to soothe it with his tongue.

"Open your eyes," she breathed against his mouth when he released her. Eliot complied, his hands raking through her hair. "Come for me baby."

She picked up her pace and sat up slightly, bracing her hands against his chest. The hitter's breathing began to fall apart into short, shallow, gasps as she brought him closer to release. She knew he was about to scream. He shut his eyes as she once again covered his mouth with her palm, tipping him over the edge. Eliot came with a roar reluctantly confined to the back of his throat, tearing at her hair and growling with each pang of his orgasm that ripped through him. He felt her walls clench around his throbbing dick as her nails clawed at his chest. He opened his eyes quickly enough to catch a glimpse of ecstasy. Her head was cradled in his hands, mouth open as if to scream, but she held her breath instead, rocking her hips to ride out her pleasure.

Eliot pulled her down to him when her breath returned, locking his mouth to hers. There was another funny thing about her; she was either screaming like a wildcat or not making a sound. He smirked and sat up with her in his arms. They were both glistening with sweat, sheets of sand clinging to the moisture. She brushed what she could from his hair with a smile before climbing off of him and standing up to wipe the sand from her legs. Eliot adjusted his boxer briefs before standing up and stretching out his back.

"You're _covered _with sand," Natalia laughed, and made a move to grab the towel. Before she completed her motion Eliot scooped her up like a rag doll over his right shoulder, wrapping an arm around the backs of her thighs. "ELIOT!" she yelped as he made his way to the ocean. She squirmed in his grasp but he held her firm, turning his head slightly to nip her bottom.

He waded out into the sea up to his stomach before tossing her into the water with a splash. She quickly found her footing in the soft sand bottom before standing up. Wiping the water from her eyes, she opened them expecting to see the man who had gotten her into this predicament. She instead was hit with a splash of water from behind. She spun around and stared him down with her mouth open. Eliot smirked, the water up to his chest now, as the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. She lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're terrible," she whispered before he kissed her. The soft lap of the cool water soothed their heated bodies as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The hitter possessively cupped the back of her head, pulling her to him, sucking on her mouth like his life depended on it. He lavished affection on her bottom lip, trailing his tongue over it, biting ever so lightly. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth further, allowing his tongue to play against hers.

Eliot's lips were a stark contrast against the rest of him; they were achingly soft. His stubble scratched her cheeks and chin, his hard muscled body was pressed tight against her, his rough hands put her exactly where he wanted her. But his lips were so wonderfully full and incredibly supple. Natalia found herself wishing they were hers to kiss forever.

She pulled away to catch her breath, resting her forehead against his and he ran a hand across her cheek, brushing her wet hair off of her face. A soft breeze blew, causing her to shiver in his arms.

"Let's get you warmed up there momma," he kissed her again before letting her go. He took her hand and waded back to shore before scooping her up, one arm behind her back, her knees draped over the other.

"You know I can walk right?" She playfully teased.

"If you can walk, you can run," he set her down as they reached their beach chairs, "and I don't want you runnin away from me." Eliot grabbed a fresh towel and draped it around her shoulders, gently patting her down to dry her off.

"Eliot," she whispered as she pulled the towel tight around her, "I'd never run from you."

He looked up from briskly drying himself off. Her eyes were once again sparkling, curly wet hair framing her moonlit features. She was dead serious. Physical miles could separate their bodies, but neither miles nor years could separate their hearts. He stretched out on the beige cushions of a beach chair and motioned for her to join. Natalia snuggled up to his side, towel and all, as he wrapped his arm around her. Her head fit perfectly into the curve of his shoulder, his body providing the warmth that she craved. Before he knew it, she was fast asleep in his arms, on a beach chair, in Havana, Cuba. No one in the world could shatter this moment if they tried.

* * *

The song is "Let Me Down Easy" by Billy Currington. Full credit goes to its rightful owners.


	11. You Get to Me

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to those who reviewed! They really do mean a lot. Hope this next chapter didn't get too mushy…

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"_I love you Eliot."_

_That had been the first time a woman had said those words to him. _

_Natalia was lying in his arms on the very brink of sleep as the sun began to peek over the horizon. The sky was a watercolor wash of purple, pink, and orange, bathing the golden Nevada sand in its glow. He tucked the thick blanket tightly around the contours of her body, insuring that she was warm against the cold desert air. The fire they had built from chaparral earlier now sat smoldering beside his truck and he stared idly from the pickup bed down at the tendrils of smoke that dissipated into nothingness. She nuzzled the soft worn leather of his jacket, sinking deeper into the warmth radiating off of his body. She was like a great cat at his side, elegant and beautiful even in an oversized sweatshirt, jeans, and dusty cowboy boots. Eliot gently kissed the top of her head. _

_Running away to Las Vegas had been a good idea after all._

_They drove all day on a whim to get there, bought new fancy clothes they couldn't afford, spent the night in casinos, and the early hours of the morning closing down bars. They had managed to pay for the clothes and more working as a team; Eliot seated at the poker table, Natalia close by his side, bending over just so every once in a while and holding seductive eye contact with the other players long enough to get their minds off of their cards. _

_They were due back at school the next afternoon, but were determined to stay up long enough to see a desert sunrise. They changed their clothes and lay in the bed of Eliot's truck talking and laughing, waiting for their sunrise. And they saw it. Barely. Eliot's eyes began to slip closed as the ever brightening sphere moved over the mountaintops. _

"_I love you too Natalia. I always will." _

_

* * *

_

Eliot rarely dreamed, and even if he did, the visions were often forgotten minutes after their incarnation. But this one he remembered as he opened his eyes against the blue-grey glow that always preceded sunrise. His dream had taken him into the past, to a memory that had been locked away, covered by years of experiences that were better kept suppressed. But this was a little diamond dug up by his subconscious, glittering and sparkling with beauty.

He immediately took stock. Natalia was where he remembered her, wrapped in a towel in his arms, fast asleep. He knew they would have to be going soon before the morning crowd hit the beach. But that would entail waking her. _Shit. _

He softly kissed the top of her head, gently rubbing a hand over her arm, desperately hoping she would stir. She moaned and lifted her head.

"Oh. Right," was her response and Eliot laughed as she got up and began to dress, slipping her clothes on over her now dry undergarments. He did the same and soon they were walking hand in hand down the cobblestone street back to their hotel, Eliot carrying the rum, Natalia wearing his fedora. It was perched slightly, albeit fashionably, off-kilter on top of her now wild curls. She had forgone her heels, deeming them inappropriate for 5:58 am, and let out a soft yawn. Eliot knew that she was tired, but that she would never admit it. She wasn't like him, able to survive on minimal sleep. She caught up on missed hours whenever she had the chance and he had interrupted her precious time off by paying her a visit. He knew she didn't mind at all but couldn't help the pang of guilt that hit his stomach. He was going to make it up to her.

When they returned to their hotel room, Hannibal came bounding out of the bathroom, yipping and bouncing at their feet with delight. Natalia set down her shoes and picked up the pup, laughing as he licked her salty skin. Eliot came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'll feed him and take him out for a bit," he rumbled lowly in her ear, now in range for the dog to lick the tip of his nose in wet puppy kisses. "You go take a shower and climb on into bed. I'll be back before you know it." It was her turn to kiss him. She whispered a "thank you" and he took Hannibal from her arms, talking to him like he would a baby. She felt a kind of warmth spread over her heart at this softer side of the hitter. She handed him a can of food and the dog's makeshift leash before he ushered her off to the shower, assuring her that he'd take care of everything. Ten minutes later she wrapped her wet hair up in a loose bun, threw on a cut-up grey t-shirt and navy blue shorts, and nestled down in the white sheets, eyes closed, blissfully lost to the world.

When he returned, Eliot dished out Hannibal's food in the bathroom to ensure that he wouldn't disturb Natalia before hopping into the shower himself. His skin had been itchy from the salt water and after drying off he shuffled through the tiny bottles on the counter for some lotion. He returned to the room and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs and a blue shirt before quietly sifting through the desk drawers until he found what he was looking for. He made a hushed call from the hotel telephone before returning to check on the puppy one last time. Content with the fact that everything was in order, Eliot slipped into bed beside her, wrapping a muscled arm around her waist and kissing the back of her neck, causing her to unconsciously let out a soft moan and snuggle back into his solid warmth. Eliot wasn't tired, in fact quite the opposite, but he was perfectly content to lie with her in his arms. He thought again about the dream he had.

He meant what he said. He had loved her, and still did. He was reminded of it every time they were together, every time he held her like this, her scent filling his nose, her warm skin pressed against his. And yet he forced himself to forget about her outside of their trysts, and he knew she did the same. They couldn't afford to think about each other. Their love was a distraction that would get in the way of their respective jobs. It was dangerous to think too long and hard about it. And yet, that's exactly what he was doing now.

When people asked him if he had ever been in love he always said "yes" but was quick to add "once," almost as if to convince himself that it had only been once. What had really only been once was the possibility of settling down, of having a family. He had that with Aimee before he went and fucked it all up. Well, in a way, they both did. He could talk about her because it was the past; a chapter in his life written in a book that had long since closed.

But Natalia, her chapter was very much alive and ever changing. He couldn't talk about her because part of him didn't know what to say, part of him wanted to keep her to himself, and yet another part was afraid to face his reality. He raised an eyebrow and quirked a corner of his mouth in disbelief. Yes, if Eliot Spencer felt fear, this was most certainly one thing that managed to shake him. Somewhere deep down, he knew that he could never have Natalia. She wasn't _that_ kind of girl. Sure, you could take her home to your Momma and guaranteed she'd fall in love with her, but Natalia was an assassin. She belonged out in the wind, not barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen…tantalizing though the image was to a more base side of his masculinity.

But no, Natalia was as wild as she was beautiful, the same alluring combination that caused men to want to tame big cats and keep them in their houses for their enjoyment. That's how he would feel about taming her; selfish. As much as he _wanted_ her, he knew she was _needed_ elsewhere. She could do good elsewhere. Why would she ever give that up to settle down? With him of all people? No. Selfish is exactly what that was. And why the hell was all of this hitting him now?

"I can feel you thinking," came a husky whisper from in front of him.

"Wha…no I was just…"

"Eliot," she turned to face him, his arm still draped around her waist. "Something is eating at you, it has been all morning." Her big green eyes were soft now, looking up into his blue ones with earnest compassion.

"I had a dream about the time we went to Vegas," he said slowly. Her eyes flashed happiness at the recollection before the emotion faded into something more somber as the memory played out in her mind. "Yeah," he whispered, knowing she knew exactly what had been bothering him.

For the first time in a long time she felt unsure of what to say. She was used to a position of control, of certainty. Hit, block, kick, and pull the trigger. All of these were second nature to her, as natural and controlled as her own breath. But this was a different realm entirely. These were human emotions. They couldn't be thought through or rationalized – something she had learned long ago. But they couldn't be smothered either, something perhaps both of them did a bit too well.

She propped herself up, as did he, allowing her room to move. Natalia sat in his lap and took his head in her hands. "Close your eyes," she whispered. Her fingers lightly traced the features of his face, some he was born with, others accumulated through a life hard lived. She ran them through his soft brown hair, wavy and damp from having just been washed, down across his strong brow, slightly knitted from the tension in his body. Her thumb delicately brushed his left eyebrow where it was split through with a scar, smiling as she remembered her own on the arch of her right one. She had done that on a rocking chair when she was two and had offered him a high five and a 'welcome to the club' when she first saw his. Tenderly she swept over the faint mirth lines around his eyes that remained long after a smile had faded from his face, marveling like a child at how long his eyelashes were. She moved then to his nose, which was now adorned with a smattering of light freckles that spread to his cheeks, a gift from the relentless Caribbean sun. Her index and middle fingers danced over his upper lip, lingering on another scar, this one nearly invisible through the heavy scruff that he had allowed to grow unchecked. He gasped and opened his eyes when her fingers brushed his bottom lip before she held his face firmly in her hands. She looked down at her Eliot, world-weary, scruffy, and scarred, so different from the boy she had loved so long ago, and yet she still felt the same welling of love in her heart. He smiled. Her touch was a tenderness he thought assassins shouldn't be capable of, but it was _her_ touch all the same, the one he remembered and so deeply craved. She accepted every unshaven, cut up, damaged inch of him, inside and out. That was really all he needed to know.

"Eliot," she whispered, "I still love you. I've never stopped," her eyes shimmered with the beginnings of tears. "If you hit your end and you tell me you need me – in whatever way that may be – I'm going to be there. Just promise me you'll have the strength to know when to stop all of this. Know when your heart can't take anymore. Because you'll kill yourself if you don't," she wrapped her arms tight around him, the conviction of her words magnified by the fierceness of her touch. "And I swear I'll kill you again for leaving me."

Eliot held her there for a long while as she sniffled a bit, a warm tear or two running down her cheek, soaking into the fabric of his t-shirt. He could feel her heart beating solidly against him, the consistency of it soothing him.

"It's ridiculous how mushy you can make me," she whispered huskily, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Same," he smiled as he pulled back just enough to kiss her, lazily capturing her bottom lip between his. He firmly held the back of her head, his fingers mussing her damp hair as their kisses increased in hunger.

She immediately pulled away from him as a knock sounded on the door, snapping into alertness. "Are we expecting someone?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Breakfast," he offered a scruffy smile as she kissed him again on the cheek. 


	12. Rules

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Thank you again to all who reviewed. Keep 'em coming and I'll keep writing!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"Don't you move," he gently lifted her off of him and got up to answer. Hannibal poked a cautious nose out of the crack in the bathroom door as Eliot tipped the bellhop and returned wheeling a cart. A coffee carafe accompanied by cream and sugar sat between two plates covered with shining silver domes.

"Fancy," she mused as she sat up in bed, fluffing a pillow and placing it between her back and the headboard. Eliot poured her a cup of coffee, stirring in one spoonful of sugar, and adding cream until the coffee was just the right shade of tan for her taste. He handed it to her with a smile and she kept her eyes locked on his as she took a sip.

"And…" he crossed his arms waiting for her verdict.

"You remembered," her face lit up. It was something so small, so trivial that she never expected anyone to take notice really. And yet Eliot had remembered. He smiled a satisfied smile before picking the tray up from the cart and placing it on the bed a little ways in front of her. He cautiously climbed into bed beside her, taking care so as not to disturb it.

"Close your eyes," he whispered. "No peeking." She complied and heard as he lifted the cover off of her plate. The scent brought a grin to her face. "Open," he whispered in her ear.

Her gaze fell upon just about the most perfect breakfast she could have ever imagined. Two poached eggs were cradled in a small bowl that sat off to the side of a plate dominated by four slices of grain toast, two strips of crispy bacon, and perhaps her most favorite thing on there– tater tots.

"It's perfect Eliot!" She flung her arms around his neck and he laughed at how suddenly childlike she was. Natalia was one of the most dangerous people in the world and yet she had this incredible fondness for fried potatoes. Tater tots, French fries, hash browns…if it was a greasy potato, she loved it. _Just another quirk_, he mused. "I can't believe they had tater tots," she released him and stared again at her plate, almost as if to make sure they were really there.

"Just for you," he kissed her on the temple, her happiness making it impossible for him not to wear a mile-wide smile.

"Thank you," she murmured. What he had done was more than just breakfast. Everything was carefully thought out right down to the way she liked her eggs. He gave a shit about her. She wasn't used to that and she was afraid that she might tear up again. She quickly took a few deep breaths and a sip of her coffee to even herself out. _Keep it together_ she thought. Crying wasn't her favorite thing in the world and she especially hated doing it when she was happy.

Eliot had done away with the dome over his plate and she looked over to see that he had ordered scrambled eggs, four strips of bacon, and the same grain toast that she had. She placed a napkin in her lap and picked up a fork, popping a tater tot in her mouth. It was perfect. She skewered another on the end of her fork and offered it to the hitter. "Not bad," he smirked and she kissed him on the mouth before he had even finished chewing. "You're welcome," he laughed, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was. They hadn't eaten dinner last night.

They flipped on the television, settling on the news, the hurriedly spoken Spanish filling the space as they ate. Hannibal came into the bedroom and sat between them, attention flipping between them, the TV, and Eliot's remaining strips of bacon. The hitter slipped him a tiny piece to the dog's immense satisfaction.

"Are you going to keep him?" He asked between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.

"Until I can find him a good home. I'd constantly worry about the boys being too rough with him," she chewed on some of her toast. The "boys" were her other two dogs, an immaculately trained tawny colored Briard, and a very playful long-coated German Shepherd. Hannibal would have been dwarfed by them, and while they would never intentionally harm the pup, Natalia was definitely right. He couldn't handle the same rough play that they could.

"I think I may know where I can find one of those," he considered the thought again, and yes, it was a good idea. Natalia agreed.

"Hear that boy? You're getting a home," she picked the dog up and he licked her face, sensing her excitement.

Eliot looked over at his beautiful contradiction. She could be so cold, calculating, and pitiless, and yet she was brought to her knees by fried potatoes and cuddly things. He felt fortunate to see this side of her, this softness to her hardened exterior. If anyone could see her now, they'd never believe the things she's done, the things she had yet to do. He understood that. He loved that.

Natalia angled her green eyes over at him, Hannibal now falling asleep in her arms. "What did you have in mind for the rest of the day?"

"I was thinkin," he moved the plates and tray off of the bed and lay on his side next to her, "that you should get some sleep. You're more tired than you'll admit," he shot a knowing glance at her. "So let me take care of everything. Anything you need, let me know," he rubbed a hand over her thigh.

"I'm thinking that that sounds incredible," she _was _exhausted. And there was something about sleeping with Eliot at her side that allowed her a deeper, more restful sleep that eluded her in every other circumstance. He gently took the puppy from her and took him back to his bed in the bathroom. He returned to find her naked, the way she always slept best, and he settled in beside her to press his chest against her back, once again enveloping her waist in his vice grip. She was safe here. She could feel him here. And within seconds, she was asleep.

* * *

Natalia woke to the tip of Eliot's tongue running up her spine. She gasped and immediately her eyes flew open and darted to the digital clock on the night stand. 6:27pm. _Geeze._ She _had_ slept the day away. But that didn't matter much anymore considering Eliot's hand was snaking its way across her butt and his teeth were softly imbedded in her shoulder.

"That's quite the wakeup call you know," she purred and rolled over to stare up into the hitter's blue eyes. His hair was pulled back now and he had the naughtiest smirk on his face.

"Well now that you're awake, I can do this," he slipped his fingers down her stomach to cup her heat in his hand. Slowly he massaged her, the heel of his palm rubbing her clit, his fingers working at her folds. She gasped and shut her eyes, slowly beginning to rock against his hand. He leaned down to kiss her, silencing her moan as he slipped a finger inside her.

"Eliot," she breathed against his lips.

"Oh no." He pulled his hand away from her. "I'm in charge today, remember?" He growled and planted kisses along her jaw. "And that means that you don't say a word until I let you," he nipped her earlobe. "That means no screaming unless I say so," his voice dropped to a rumble, "and you don't come until I tell you to." His words had the desired effect. He felt her body bristle before looking down into her eyes, raging with anger at being told what to do, and yet vivid with lust and excitement at his sudden assertion of dominance. He laughed softly as she writhed in the sheets below him. He idly traced his fingers over her breasts as her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her head back into the pillow. They moved lower before he slipped his middle finger back inside her.

His mouth found her left nipple and she arched her back before he slipped another finger inside her soaking heat. Eliot stroked her as she ground against his hand, slowly at first before gradually increasing in speed and urgency, testing the limits of his rules. He traced his tongue over her stiff nipple before biting down prompting a stifled gasp from her throat, his fingers curled against her G-spot working her into more of a frenzy. He angled his blue eyes up from her chest to her face and found her eyes were shut tight and that she was biting her bottom lip hard to keep quiet, as per his instructions.

Natalia was barely on the brink of release when all at once he deprived her of his touch; his mouth left her breast and his fingers slipped out of her. She panted at the loss of contact, but before she could open her eyes in protest, Eliot's fingers were pressed to her lips, trailing her wetness over them. She gently began to suck and nibble on his fingers, feeling his arousal now pressing against her thigh. More urgently her tongue played with his digits, hungrily cleaning them of her taste. He stifled a moan as best he could. "Keep your eyes closed," he rumbled.

Eliot shuffled around on the bed to straddle her naked form without making contact. Kneeling back on his haunches, he removed his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. She was gripping the sheets now, fingers tangled in waves of white cotton, bristling with anticipation of his next move. He propped himself up on either side of her waist, leaning down to trace the contours of her breasts with his tongue, lightly nipping her stomach, and licking around her bellybutton. He slowly began to kiss down her lower abs along her hipbones as she turned her face to one side and bit the feather pillow in an effort to bear her sweet torment.

Natalia was trained to withstand torture, and she had under a few occasions. But this was something different entirely. Every cell in her body was fighting against her natural inclination to touch Eliot, to pull his hair, to take him how she wanted him. No, this was worse than torture. She had no physical restraints to fight against. No way to manifest the sexual turmoil boiling in her blood. And it was only about to intensify. His words and her willpower were the only things that bound her wrists to the bed and kept her from crying out at his touch. Mercifully, he sensed her anguish and offered her a reprieve.

"Touch me," he commanded and immediately Natalia's fingers flew from the sheets to his skin. She maddeningly ran them over his biceps, firm and exaggerated from supporting his weight, feeling the heat of his body in her hands. It was like touching land again after being lost at sea. She ran her nails over his shoulders before touching the silken strands of his hair. Frantically she groped for the tie that bound his locks, pulling it out and rolling it onto her own wrist before delving into his brown curls. Eliot shuffled around to move lower, kissing down her inner thigh as he positioning himself between her legs with his hands on her hips. He moved back up her leg towards her wetness, his nose brushing her Brazilian-trimmed curls. His tongue found her clit, slowly teasing to see how sensitive she was. When she ground her hips up to him urgently, he let loose.

Eliot lapped at her wetness hungrily, kissing, sucking, and licking, knowing just how to make her mad with ecstasy. Her fingers in his hair scratched his scalp, urging him on harder and faster. His tongue dipped inside her and she made an attempt to buck her hips up to him, but was stilled by his hands on her hipbones, firm and calloused and clear in their message; he was in control. He tossed her legs over his shoulders where her toes searched out either side of his spine on his lower back, pressing down in a move she knew would send a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick. He grunted and she smirked, knowing she had hit her target. She was still playing within the rules; he _had_ said she could touch him. His mouth pulled away from her and he prowled up to her lips, mimicking what he had been doing seconds before. Her hands moved to pull off his boxer briefs but he forcefully swatted them away, pinning her wrists to the bed above her. Natalia couldn't help the incredulous hiss that emanated from her throat.

"Open your eyes," Eliot offered a predatory growl. Her emerald eyes were wide with the animal urge to take control back and use him to finally have the pleasure he was denying her. He grinned seductively before whispering in her ear, "fight me."

Immediately she dug her nails into his wrists, wrenching her hands from his grip in his split second of pain. He reflexively dropped his body over hers, the weight of his nearly 200 pounds keeping her from escape. She cried out from under him before managing to place her forearm against his neck, bracing it with her other fist and pressing up against him as hard as she dared to without causing damage. It allowed her just enough space to pull her knees up between them and flip him off of her. In a flash she straddled him and was shoving his hands through the bars of the headboard, where she used his hair tie to bind his wrists together. He slammed his hips up to hers in an effort to buck her off, but her thighs tightened around him as though she was riding a bull, and he knew he wouldn't be able to shake her. Her wild eyes stayed locked on his feral blue ones as she reached behind her to strip him of his boxer briefs which he kicked onto the floor. She pressed her warm curves against him, sucking and licking her way down his neck to his chest where she bit a nipple, eliciting a growl and another ram of his hips up against her. She laughed mischievously as she writhed against him, basking in his temporary loss.

They had played this game before, although it had been far more heated on several occasions. She had broken his coffee table once by bashing him down into it, and he had smashed an entire set of her dinnerware struggling against his little wildcat. They had their safe words as well as their own personal boundaries. One or two broken items were negligible. A little bit of pain was good. The bruises evident in the morning light were worn as badges of pride for a fight well fought and pleasure well earned. New coffee tables could always be ordered online; he never actually liked that one anyway. Plus, new china was fun to purchase hand in hand with the man who broke your old set. There was no need to take themselves too seriously. Under the grunts of pain and the fierceness of struggle, it was always about their trust. They would have pushed it a bit more if this wasn't a hotel room. It wasn't their stuff to break.

She snaked her hands over his heavy arms as she sucked and kissed his chest, dizzy from the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the thrill of having Eliot's muscled power underneath her.

"Momma, I think you forgot that it takes metal to hold me," he growled before snapping the hair tie like a piece of thread.

"I'll bring my handcuffs next time," she promised in a husky voice before his hands gripped her hips. He arched up to kiss her, open-mouthed and greedy before holding her bottom lip between his teeth to keep her from pulling away. In a flash he ripped her off of him and flung her face down onto the floor.

Natalia spat a curse before Eliot was behind her, yanking her hips up and pressing himself into her all at once. She moaned at his intrusion as he grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him, feeling ever inch of her tight, wet core. Eliot began thrusting into her, the darkening room now filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and frenzied, desperate breathing. Natalia pressed her chest against the floor, stretching out in front of the hitter, making him growl in pleasure. She felt even tighter now and he could tell from her moaning that he was hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck…Natalia," he rumbled as he ran a hand over the contours of her back. He was so damn close…

"What's that Eliot?" She panted facetiously.

"You're gonna make me…"

"I'm going to make you _what_ Eliot?" Natalia asserted. She was on her knees in front of him, but she was still in control.

"You're gonna make me fuckin come, baby," Eliot's voice was falling apart, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

"Then come Eliot," she was almost on the edge. "Come inside me baby."

He reached up to grab her shoulder, using the leverage to slam into her deeper and harder, her moans escalating to primal screams. The hitter rammed into his assassin to the hilt, letting out an unbridled roar as he came hard, dick throbbing as he spilled his load inside her. She came at the same moment, her fingers clawing at the carpet, walls clenching down around his pulsing length, each surrendering entirely to sensation. When Eliot trusted his synapses to fire correctly again, he pulled out of her, sat back on his haunches, and ran a hand through his hair. Natalia immediately flipped over to look up at him, as she always did after they finished in this position. She never stayed on her knees very long, since, as a woman used to power and control, she rejected the submission it implied. He asked her once why she liked the position so much if being on her knees got under her skin. "Because it feels too fucking good," was her comeback. He grinned at the memory as she stared up at him, panting.

"Up for another round?" She breathed into the now semi-dark space.

"Always. But we have dinner reservations in half an hour," Eliot stood up and looked around for his clothes. She propped herself up on her elbows and shook her head smiling before taking his outstretched hand. He wrapped her in a hug which she gratefully melted into, feeling his heart hammering against her own. "You didn't follow my rules ya know," he whispered with a laugh. She had managed to turn everything he laid out right back on him.

"Darling, I never play by the rules," she kissed his scruffy jaw before pulling away towards the bathroom.

"No," he laughed, "No you don't." Not that he minded. He pulled his boxer briefs and t-shirt back on before she walked back into the room, wrapped up in a robe. "Hey, momma?"

"Yup?" She looked up from shuffling through her duffel bag for a dress.

"You got an extra hair tie?" He ran his fingers through his locks sheepishly. He had snapped his only one.

She laughed and pulled one from her bag before padding over to him, lovingly tying his brown curls up herself, finishing the deed with a kiss on his lips.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Of course," she smiled before turning back to pick out her outfit.

_That woman is something else_, he grinned before turning to get himself ready for dinner. 


	13. You

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Sooo sorry that this update took as long as it did. I've got one more chapter left to finish off this story and that should be up very soon. Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Ready?" Natalia stood in the bathroom doorway watching her lover fiddle with his hair in the mirror.

Eliot turned on his heel to face her, involuntarily resting a hand over his heart. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her body encased in a painted-on, black, one-shoulder dress with a full sleeve on her left arm. Triangular leather insets curved around her waist, hips, and arm, gripping her like they were molded to her body. She was wearing those fuck-me pumps again and stared back at him through artfully smudged eyeliner.

"Damn, momma," he let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding. He was wearing his black dress shirt tucked neatly into slacks of the same shade with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

She prowled over to him, her fingers deftly adjusting his collar before she opened the first three buttons on his shirt, exposing the necklace he was wearing, and a fair bit of skin. "So where are we off to tonight," she purred.

"A candlelit seafood dinner at the fanciest restaurant the concierge could think of," he placed his palms on the small of her back, pressing her body to his, "and then I'm gonna bring you back here," he planted kisses on her neck, "peel this dress off of you," he whispered in her ear, "and fuck you until you pass out." His statement was so definitive, his voice so sexy and confident in his assertion that she was tempted to skip dinner entirely. She moaned as his hands slipped down the fabric to grab her ass.

"Easy big boy, I thought you wanted to keep that reservation," she wrapped her arms around his neck, staring him down through those seductive eyes. Reluctantly he released her, pausing a moment to watch her saunter away. Eliot was having doubts about those reservations right about now too. But he collected himself, slipped on his boots, and followed her out the door.

It wasn't long before they were seated at a candle-lit booth, tucked away in the corner of a ritzy restaurant. Eliot waited politely for Natalia to slide into the seat before he did the same. Meals were ordered and an ice bucket with chilled champagne was placed on the table. Eliot poured Natalia a glass before filling his own. He watched her wrap her long fingers around the flute and bring the glass to her lips before she felt his gaze on her.

"What have you been up to all day?" She asked, leaning back into the plush seat. Her green eyes glimmered in the glow of the candlelight.

"I took Hannibal out for a walk, went for a swim in the pool, showered, blow dried my hair, paid a visit to the concierge and found this place," he gestured idly around the booth with one hand, "then I had sex with a stunning woman. All in all not a bad day," he smiled warmly.

"And to think I slept it all away," she laughed. "You can stay in the room another 5 days," her tone suddenly turned somber, her gaze directed at some invisible spot on the maroon tablecloth. "Uncle Sam paid for a week's stay after I finished my job."

"Sometimes I think he doesn't understand the meaning of vacation," Eliot growled. You deserved a vacation when you were one of the best. Thing is, when you were one of the best, Uncle Sam couldn't afford to give you one.

"It happens," she shrugged it off, taking another sip of champagne.

"I tell you momma, I don't know how you do it."

"Comes with the territory, El."

"Do you ever regret it?" It was a seemingly loaded question and he was surprised when her answer came swiftly with shocking clarity.

"No," she started back at him from under her long lashes, eyes burning with resolute passion. "This is my life now because I chose it. I don't _live_ with the consequences of that decision, I _thrive_ on them. I've never known a desk job in my life – and I never want to. Sure, I liked my life before this. I did the college thing and came out of school doing something I believed in, something I could be proud of. But it was easy. It was monotonous. I wasn't built for that cage. And I sure as hell don't want to go back. I'd go insane. I don't think people like us – people who've lived the way we have – can ever go back."

Eliot paused for a moment before his fingers found the stem of his champagne glass, which he clinked against hers with a smirk. Every word was true.

She looked up at their waiter as he brought their food, flashing a smile in thanks. They spent the rest of their meal discussing decidedly lighter things before their waiter came to clear their plates. They passed on dessert before walking back to their hotel, Eliot's arm wrapped around Natalia's shoulder. Her body was tense, be it with anxiety or just plain exhaustion accumulated over her past few jobs. Maybe even a little bit of soreness from taking the delicious punishment he had dealt her nonstop for the past two days. He kissed the top of her head and vowed to make it up to her.

When they returned to their room, Natalia kicked off her shoes and went through her routine of tending to the puppy before washing off her makeup. She returned to the bedroom and was about to unzip her dress when she felt Eliot's chest pressed against her back, arms wrapped low around her waist.

His nose traced the curve of her neck before he breathed in her ear. "I got this," he rumbled before his fingers moved to the zipper on the back of her dress. He slowly pulled on the metal tab, watching as it slid easily down her back before just barely gliding over the full curve of her ass. When he reached the stop he slid his hands under the fabric, caressing her back with firm hands while kissing her neck. She pulled her arm out of the one sleeve before Eliot slid the dress off of her, taking note of the dark blue lace band thong and the complete absence of a bra. He pressed his body against hers once more and she was met only by skin, save for his boxer briefs.

The hitter's hands slid down her sides before flattening against her stomach, fingers slipping under the lace waistband of her underwear. She let out a moan as his fingers moved lower to cup her heat in his palm, her breathing growing heavier as he stroked her. Natalia reached behind her, her fingers finding the heated skin of his neck, trailing up to tangle in his hair.

"Bed," he growled in her ear and she complied, with Eliot not far behind. He pulled back the sheets as he kissed her. "On your stomach," he prompted before straddling her, supporting his weight with his thighs.

His calloused fingers gently removed the band from her hair, combing through it to free it from the constraints of the bun it had been in. He gently pushed the dark strands off of her neck and back, leaving it to cascade across the white case of the feather pillow below her. The hitter brushed his lips across the skin just above her tattoo, causing chills to shoot up her spine before finally manifesting in a moan as he laved her skin with his tongue. He dug the heels of his palms into her shoulders, massaging her strained muscles until he felt the tension dissipate. He continued across her entire back, applying varying amounts of pressure according to her moans and the knots that he felt. Calloused fingers trailed lazy circles over soft skin, barely brushing against her before he dug his thumbs into either side of her spine, running them down the entire length of her back.

"Eliot…" came a husky voice from below him.

"Hmm?" He rumbled low and calm in reply.

"You're making me sleepy," her words tranquil and on the brink of slumber.

"Don't fight it momma," he whispered, leaning down to kiss the back of her shoulder, trailing up to her ear. He continued to knead soft patterns into her back pressing light kisses against her skin, feeling her breathing even out, and fall into a pattern he recognized as sleep. Eliot settled into the bed beside her, looping an arm around her waist. He was well aware that the tranquil, beautiful woman before him would be gone within hours. And there was nothing he could do about it. She felt the weight of his touch, and perhaps his thoughts, and snuggled into his chest, lacing her leg through his, draping one arm over his hip. He was asleep within minutes.

Sometime into his 90 minutes of sleep, the early hours of the morning found the hitter wildly entangled with the assassin. He was buried inside her, fingers in her hair as she slammed a hand into the wall above the headboard to brace herself. Her thighs were tight around his waist as she rode him and Eliot's hands moved down her back before gripping her ass and pulling her harder onto him. She leaned down to kiss him and his tongue frantically invaded her mouth. The hitter's body was absolutely starving for every inch of hers. Every thrust was a desperate attempt to feel her, to be a part of her.

Natalia couldn't hold back the moans as Eliot's pace increased in urgency. Every kiss felt as though he was stealing the breath from her throat. Every touch burned her skin with absolute desire. He seized her hips with both hands, flipping her over onto her back. She raked her hands through his hair, pulling his lips to hers again as she bucked her hips up to meet his.

"Eliot…" her voice stained with breathless urgency.

"Natalia," he moaned.

"I need you," she gasped. She needed him deeper, harder, faster. She needed every inch, every burning ounce of Eliot. Her Eliot.

"Look at me," he growled, one hand to the side of her head, supporting his weight, the other holding her jaw. She fought to keep her eyes open in spite of every nerve screaming at her to shut them and let go. The sight of her below him was enough to make him insane. "Oh God…" he groaned. She tipped her head back and he ran his fingers over her neck before his lips attacked the newly exposed skin.

"Yesss…Eliot," she reached a hand up to press against the headboard, her feet digging into the backs of his thighs. Natalia drug her nails across his back, panting his name amidst moans and curses. "El…please. Now Eliot. I…oohhhh El…"

Eliot braced himself on both hands, slamming into her hard, feeling her walls tighten as she pushed firmly against the headboard and arched up into his chest as she came. Natalia's scream sent him over the edge with a roar, her contractions milking his dick for every last ounce of come from his orgasm. He shuddered as he came down from his high, rolling to the side before collapsing in a sated heap.

The sounds of their labored breathing filled the air before Natalia rested her head on Eliot's chest, her arm low around his hip, tracing small circles across his skin, still hazy from her orgasm. The hitter wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Love you," he drawled lazily as he drifted off to sleep once again.

"Love you too." 


	14. Until Next Time

**Title: **Havana

**Summary: **Eliot meets up with an old friend while the team takes a short vacation.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage or any of the characters associated with the show. I only claim ownership to the character that I created. Also, no profits are being made off of this story. It's only for your entertainment.

**Author's Note: **Final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me. I really hope that you all enjoyed it. And for those of you who are interested...I have a sequel already in the works!**

* * *

  
**

**Chapter 14**

Eliot woke with the sun streaming through the window, cascading across white sheets before laying a warm caress across his arm. He stretched and reached into the beams, fingers landing on tangled sheets. He sat up in bed, eyes scanning the room for something he knew wasn't there.

She was gone.

He climbed out of bed and slipped on his boxer briefs before wrenching open the closet doors. All of her equipment was gone. Her backpack and duffel weren't on the floor beside the bed anymore. Every trace of her had disappeared as if she had just been a dream. He raked his fingers through his hair before nudging open the bathroom door.

Hannibal was still there, and happy as ever to see Eliot. The hitter scooped up the little puppy, who licked his face relentlessly. Eliot smiled before something on the mirror caught his eye. It was a small note scrawled in her dark red lipstick.

_I've always wanted to see Boston at Christmastime_

A smile spread across his lips. Perhaps he wouldn't have to see her only once a year after all.

* * *

About a week later, Eliot knocked on the door to Hardison's apartment. He heard Parker on the other side come skipping over to the door with excitement.

"ELIOT!" She flung the door open and pulled him into a bear hug which he returned, half-assedly. He wasn't a very huggy person.

"Hey man," Hardison called from the kitchen as Parker shut the door behind Eliot.

"Hey," he came in and sat on the couch, placing the bag he had been carrying on the coffee table.

"What's in there?" Parker flopped down next to him.

"A present for you."

"Well damn, why does she get something and I don't?" Hardison perched on the arm of the sofa with a cup of coffee.

"Because this thing has as much energy as she does," Eliot unzipped the bag and lifted out a little ball of black and tan fluff.

"Puppy!" Parker gasped, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Yeah. Straight off the streets of Cuba. House trained, knows 'sit,' 'stay,' and 'come,' and he's quiet as a mouse. You'll have to buy him supplies but you couldn't ask for a better little dog," Eliot placed the pup in her arms where it licked her chin. "His name is Hannibal."

"Aww he's pretty cute," Hardison petted the top of the dog's head.

Eliot left her to her new friend and went to the fridge for a beer.

"How was Cuba?" Hardison moved to sit at the kitchen island while Eliot leaned against the counter.

"Great, man," he smirked and took a sip of beer.

"You look like you got some color going on. How's the girl?"

Eliot couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.

"That good huh? Damn. You do owe me big time."

"Man, I don't owe you anything."

"Um, you did get laid. I can see it all over your face. You _owe_ me."

"Look, it ain't my fault that you can't pick up a girl on your own," he turned around to glance at Parker, "or have the balls to ask one out."

"Not cool man. Not cool."

Eliot smirked. "Do something about it," and with that he stepped back down into the living room. Christmas, it seemed, couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

**Thank you all again! Hope you enjoyed it.**


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